Stuck in a Moment
by Autumn Melody
Summary: A story of Orlando Bloom, his new wife, their best friends, and the challenges they face. Written for a friend as a birthday gift, but I decided to share it with others. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Jenn stumbled and almost fell as Michelle pushed her towards the door. She spun around to glare at Michelle, who looked slightly sheepish. "That really wasn't supposed to happen," Michelle muttered, in her own unique version of apology. Jenn said nothing; she suddenly found that her throat was very dry. She almost licked her lips, then remembered that would smear her lipstick. Like a savior, Michelle suddenly pushed a paper cup of water into her shaking hands; Jenn had no idea where it had come from. She drained it in three gulps as Michelle gently rubbed her back.

Jenn couldn't remember walking to meet her father. She remembered whispering, "Daddy," and locking her arms around him in a desperate hug, as though to grasp some shred of sanity in a world that was about to turn upside down. He patted her softly on the back, intimately understanding the futility of words in the moment. The music outside changed, and Jenn straightened, determined at least to look confident. She took a deep breath to calm herself, took the arm her father offered, and began to walk.

Rachael Leigh Cook was not a happy person. And when Rachael was not happy, the people around her tended to either make themselves scarce or suffer along with her. But at the moment, Rachael was looking for someone in particular. "Tobey!" she snapped, tearing a magazine page in half in her agitation. At least it wasn't _the_ page.

Rachael looked around impatiently. "Tobey!" she yelled more loudly.

A man ambled in casually. Rachael glared, as though willing him to walk faster, but he moved so slowly it bordered on insolence. It was quite a scene: Rachael couldn't have been much more than five feet, and Tobey at least a foot taller, but Tobey had a healthy respect for Rachael. She didn't scare him, but some of the guys who worshiped the ground she walked on did make him nervous.

"Yeah?" he asked, annoyed. "I was _busy_. This better be good."

Rachael pushed the magazine into his hands. He stared at it. "Rachael. I am not going to read _Cosmo_. I don't know, it's just so… girly. And… well, I'm not. At least, I hope I'm not." Tobey wasn't normally a babbler, but he'd woken up twenty minutes before and had been trying to decipher a complicated television manual since; somehow he'd managed to get himself elected to set up the new television set in the rec room upstairs. It made him a bit groggy.

Rachael snatched the magazine back, acting a bit melodramatic in Tobey's opinion. She flipped to a marked page and threw it back at him. "Read it," she demanded. Her intensity was bothersome, Tobey decided. This was not one of her better moods. Cautiously, he looked down, afraid of what may have made Rachael go off like a bomb.

Tobey skimmed the page with his head cocked to one side. There was quite a bit about a celebrity marriage, but he didn't really care. The picture at the bottom caught his eye. It showed a man with longish brown hair and piercing eyes, with his arm around a bright-eyed young woman with red hair and soft hazel eyes. She was cute, Tobey decided. He could definitely get used to somebody like that. He glanced up and told as much to Rachael.

She sputtered, and Tobey sighed, wishing that once in a while he'd say the right thing. He didn't want to deal with an exceptionally angry Rachael at the moment. He needed to finish with the stupid television. He needed to go back to bed.

"Just tell me," he ordered, overly patiently. "Just tell me what the problem is so I can leave."

"That's _Orlando Bloom_," Rachael hissed.

Tobey looked again, mildly surprised. "So it is." He glanced up. "Your point?"

"Do you not remember me telling you I wanted to be with Orlando?"

Tobey closed his eyes briefly, struggling with annoyance. "And?"

"And now he's getting _married_!" Rachael yelped.

Tobey rubbed his temples. "I don't see the problem." It was the wrong thing to say and he knew it, but he could work Rachael up a bit. She always told him he was too cute to get rid of. Tobey wasn't sure what he thought of that, but it meant that as long as he didn't push Rachael _too_ far, he could still live in this luxurious house of hers, with plenty of room and free food. Tobey was a sucker for free food.

"We have to do something about this," Rachael declared.

Tobey was only mildly surprised by this suggestion. He regarded Rachael thoughtfully, but warily. He'd always suspected that madness ran in that family. Sometimes dealing with Rachael was like walking on eggshells. It was just better not to try it at all.

"And what are we going to do about this?" he asked, curious.

"We have to stop that wedding."

Jenn focused every fiber of her being on putting one foot in front of the other. Right, left, right, left, right-left-right-left. It was such a long walk. She was afraid to look up, afraid that her fear of this crazy thing she was doing would be echoed in Orli's eyes, because that would just shatter the calm she was working so hard to maintain.

They'd opted for an outdoor wedding, deciding that June in New York offered weather that was just too perfect to pass up. It was in a rather spacious grove of plants Jenn would never be able to identify by name. There were pretty trees that boasted all sorts of fruits, and bushes that glimmered with flowers, and grass still glistening with morning dew. Orli had insisted on a rich red carpet to lead up to the portable, but very tasteful, altar they'd set up for the occasion. Jenn had thought it rather silly, but as she stared at her strappy white shoes, she knew they would never have survived the wet grass without stains.

Jenn was suddenly very aware of her surroundings. She saw Michelle, gorgeous in a forest green bridesmaid's dress, walking slowly in front of her, seemingly without a care in the world. She felt her father's arm around hers and heard her ragged breath and the birds chirping all around her. Jenn experienced a moment of dizziness, unable to take in everything she was feeling in all its intensity.

She looked up.

Orli was waiting for her eyes to meet his. He smiled when he saw her. He did not, as Jenn had so feared, look uncertain. Orli looked like he knew exactly what he was doing. Jenn felt mildly jealous of his cool collectedness, until she realized that watching him made her feel more confident in her own decision to walk down this makeshift aisle and say "I do" to the man she loved.

Rachael whipped out a map and spread it on the table. It was all very comical, like a general explaining battle tactics, and Tobey would have laughed, but for once he kept his opinion to himself. Let Rachael do what she wanted, so long as it didn't involve him… or so he figured.

In fact, Rachael wanted him to "detain" Jennifer so she could "detain" Orlando and convince him to fall madly in love with her. It sounded a bit dubious, but then Tobey was never all that interested in Evil Schemes and Very Cunning Plans. For all he knew it could be brilliant, although he was fairly sure kidnapping was a felony. He pointed this out.

Rachael took a moment to glare at him. "Did I say kidnap?"

Tobey started to explain what he thought was quite obvious.

Rachael interrupted. "Did you hear me say the word 'kidnap'?"

"No, but…" he started.

"I never said anything about kidnapping," Rachael told him decisively. "I said 'detain.' Point out where the law says you can't detain a person. Kidnapping is nabbing a kid. We're not nabbing kids. We're detaining."

"It's the same-" he protested.

"No," she snapped. "It's not. Don't question me."

Tobey sighed. Sometimes it was just easier to go along with Rachael, no matter how whacked she seemed. "What do you want me to do?"

It was a walk that lasted forever.

To Orli, it passed in an instant. He savored every moment he was able to watch his wife-to-be take little baby steps down the aisle. He smiled as he watched her, so intent on doing this thing called marriage right. He blessed the loose hairs that rebelled against her sleek French twist and swirled in the wind to rest in little tendrils against her face.

The wind picked up without warning. In the distance there was a sound of helicopters.

Rachael enlisted the help of four of her latest boyfriends, all of them big and burly. Within minutes she had a fifth boyfriend on the phone, promising that he could loan her two helicopters. Rachael had many boyfriends, and none of them minded sharing her. All of them minded Tobey and his questionable relationship, so to speak, with her.

"Tobey!" Rachael yelled, and he snapped to attention, feeling very much like a soldier about to go into battle.

"Yeah?" he asked, determined at least to sound irritable. It wasn't hard. Tobey _was_ irritated. He wanted nothing to do with this.

Rachael singled out two of her boyfriends, by the names of Dan and Ryan. Tobey found these to be rather common names, and immediately decided his more unusual name made him superior. Tobey was rather cranky; the television still was not working, and he'd literally rolled out of bed at five in the morning when Rachael had declared a "state of emergency" and summoned everyone to the dining room, where her plans were laid out on the table.

"I found out last night that the wedding has been moved to this morning," she announced to the room at large. She paused, clearly waiting for a reaction, which never came. Apparently Rachael was the only one who cared. She ploughed on, "I don't care what it takes, I want this wedding stopped. So…" Here she took a deep breath, prepping herself to say something that even she found difficult. "We have to move _now_. Tobey, Dan and Ryan, I want you to take one of the helicopters Javier loaned me. Do whatever you need to do to eliminate Jennifer from the picture, short of actual murder. I mean, don't hurt the girl, just get her out of the way. Got it?" She didn't wait for a reaction. "Alex and Dean," she said, naming two of her oldest and most faithful boyfriends. "I want you to do the same to Orlando. Bring him back here as soon as possible. I'll be watching and waiting."

Tobey groaned inaudibly. This was wonderful. The Plan, as Rachael had taken to calling it, and you could just hear the capital letters in her voice, had originally been to run into Jennifer while she was out or whatever, and… Tobey wasn't sure exactly what he was supposed to do. Rachael was going to convince Orlando to accompany her back to her house for dinner or something, and go from there. She was pretty dependent on her charm, and admittedly she was very cute, but charm could wear thin, and few people knew this as well as Tobey. It had always been ridiculous to him. Why Orlando Bloom was the only person Rachael wanted when she had so many boyfriends, Tobey didn't know. But if it interfered with his life, he cared a lot.

Tobey was not a vicious person. He wasn't even cruel. But somehow, Rachael had intrigued him when they'd first met, and he'd stayed with her for a while. Eventually he grew annoyed with her insatiable need for more and more boyfriends, but still he'd stuck around. Rachael was interesting; you never knew what she would do from one moment to the next. Tobey was afraid to double-cross her, had been afraid from the start to back out of The Plan, for the simple reason that he was content with their relationship, whatever that was, and did not want to jeopardize his life when he was working so hard to find stability after box office burns on multiple movies that affected him personally.

He realized Rachael was talking again and forced himself back to the present. Dwelling on hard memories did him no good. He followed Dan and Ryan outside, relishing the warm breeze on his face and thinking sadly of all the things he would rather be doing.

Unbidden, an image conjured itself up in his mind, of a slender, pretty young woman with fiery red hair and warm hazel eyes filled with laughter. He didn't want to daunt that happiness. But Rachael was glaring at him, rather suspicious, and Tobey sighed quietly. He glared right back, took a deep breath, and stepped up into the helicopter, feeling both ridiculous and sad.

After what seemed like hours, Jennifer realized the altar was drawing closer. She was too afraid to look up for some reason, as though afraid to see her uncertainty reflected in Orli's eyes. She'd already looked up once, and now she was keeping her eyes on her shoes, trying not to cry, although she could not fathom why she would have any desire to. But she was suddenly getting the sense that everything was wrong. She couldn't even hear the orchestra over the noises of the helicopters, which for some reason were skimming the tops of the trees. Jenn could see them now, and though she knew nothing about aerodynamics, she was very much afraid they were going to crash right in the middle of the wedding.

Some of the guests seem to have noticed the same thing and were half-risen from their chairs, afraid that departing would mortally offend the bride and groom, but at the same time fearing for their lives. But even as the guests debated what to do, the helicopters landed a short distance away, in empty field.

Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief, but something still seemed wrong. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the helicopters, from which half a dozen large and rather ominous-looking men had filed out. She froze as they headed towards the wedding area, racking her brains as she tried to remember if she and Orli had any friends who were pilots, wore masks and carried semiautomatics, but somehow she didn't think so. She wanted to move, but her feet would not obey her screaming mind. So, she simply did not move as she watched the men draw nearer and nearer. She did not duck when one of them pulled his gun and waved it in the air, pointing it threateningly at random people. She did not cry in surprise when one vaguely familiar man came up and took her arm, rather politely, and spoke softly to her, and led her to the helicopter, managing to be both gentle and forceful.

She saw it all in slow motion, as though she were in a dream. It was like one of those dreams where the sleeper is aware of the unreality, but with no real control over the events. But then, in such a dream, it hardly matters what happens, because the sleeper knows that wakefulness follows the nightmares, no matter how bad. Such was Jenn's interpretation of the events that unfolded before her eyes. She saw Orli being pulled into the other helicopter, and felt hands pushing her into a corner in the helicopter, and heard voices yelling, but she couldn't take it all in. This wasn't real. The wedding hadn't begun yet. Soon she would be waking up, laughing at her silly nightmare and shaking it off.

Dimly, very dimly, she realized the helicopter was lifting off. She wanted to jump, could still make it and perhaps only twist an ankle, but it seemed a small price to pay. But, stunned, she found she still had no control over her movements. A figure walked up to her, bent down and pressed a cool cloth against her face. It smelled terrible, and Jenn tried to pull her head away, but found that she could only manage to back into the wall just behind her. Jennifer remembered little else except for the helicopter spinning crazily, and not just from the sudden motion. The world was growing darker… or perhaps she was just used to the brilliant June sun outside? She felt all at once that there was a considerable lack of air… she sucked it in, but her lungs still burned as though on fire… and her head ached from fear and sudden fatigue… Somehow Jenn couldn't work out what was going on… and the images in front of her eyes swam, and then faded altogether….


	2. Chapter 2

Michelle wipes the tears away from her eyes and looks at Josh with renewed love in her heart. Then she tears her eyes away and mumbles, more to the ground than Josh, "We have to go find them." Josh nods in solemn agreement. But then, unable to ward off a smile, he notes, "You may have to change first so you don't trip in those shoes." Michelle smiles, tremblingly after so much crying, and nods, heading off the change into jeans and a T-shirt (a cute T-shirt, of course, and even in her pain and misery and the current crisis she looks cute and sexy). Josh does likewise, and of course he always looks adorable no matter what. They meet up and decide that Josh will go after Jen, and Michelle will go after Orlando.

Josh heads off to find Jen, running through his options in his mind. _Tobey Maguire, Tobey Maguire_... where would he be? _Probably stuck to a wall somewhere_, he thinks dryly, remembering his latest role in _Spiderman_. At any rate, he sprints off to Hollywood (something he can manage quite well, despite the fact that he rarely ever goes to the gym, now that he is no longer in a stiff, uncomfortable tux). After only two hours of searching, he locates Tobey and most politely asks him to hand over Jen. Tobey sneers and refuses. He doesn't look so cute with that nasty look on his face.

"Why not?" Josh wonders aloud, figuring, _better see if he'll talk and maybe I can find something out_. 

"Because," Tobey answers with that sneer, "Jennifer and Orlando can't be together."

"Ah," says Josh, nodding like he understands. "But... why's that?"

"Because," Tobey smirks, "my pal Rachel wants Orlando. And Jen doesn't deserve him, and Rachel does. And I want Rachel to be happy, so-" he sighs dramatically- "you'll understand, of course, why I have to-" He doesn't finish the sentence, but, rather, aims a punch at Josh's handsome face...

Meanwhile, Michelle faces the same predicament as Josh: She has managed to locate Rachel Leigh Cook but not Orli. Rachel explains the matter quite like Tobey does, and with an identical sneer on her face. _Strange_, Michelle thinks. _I didn't know these two idiots were working together, ever_. Thinking fast, she aims a punch at Rachel. Caught off guard, Rachel forgets to defend herself and falls down, sniveling in pain, rage still evident on her face. She curses and swears avidly, but apparently is unable to get up.

Michelle stands over the fallen girl and asks calmly, as though inquiring after the weather, "And how did kidnapping Jen fit into all this? Oh wait, don't tell me, does Tobey like her?"

Rachel snorts. "Of course not! That was only to get her out of the way!"

Michelle fixes her with a glare. "Are you suggesting that there is something wrong with Jen?"

Rachel smiles, evilly. "Are you suggesting that there is not?"

Michelle offers Rachel a cold stare. "Orlando Bloom certainly doesn't think there is anything wrong with her. But I'll bet he could find plenty of fault with you."

Rachel winces slightly, trying to not let Michelle see, but she fails miserably. Michelle smiles to herself, knowing she has hit a weak spot. Pressing her advantage, she continues, "You know, Rachel, you can't make Orli marry you or even like you. So tell me, what was all this supposed to accomplish?"

Rachel's smirk is back in place. "In time, I could make him forget Jennifer. He could learn to love me, and I could offer him so much more than Jennifer could. So, with Jennifer out of the way, and only me knowing where Orlando is, I don't see how anyone could stop me."

Michelle, almost sputtering with rage, makes a move to hit Rachel again, but Rachel raises a hand in warning. "You make me mad, Michelle, and you'll never find your precious Orlando." It is the first time Rachel has actually said Michelle's name, and since they weren't really properly introduced, this surprises Michelle. Is she better known in Hollywood than she thinks? All the tabloids and papers have been raging about the two celebrities getting married... Michelle brushes off the surprise and glares at Rachel, racking her brain for more options. Is there anything she can do? Clearly, Rachel has no intention of betraying Orli's whereabouts to Michelle. Is there any other way she can find him? How? And is Josh all right? How's he doing? What will happen to Michelle if she annoys Rachel too badly? Does she have bodyguards or anything? Doesn't it stand to reason that wherever Rachel is, Orli is likely to be nearby? Where could Jen be? Are they all right? Clearly, Rachel has no intention of hurting Orli, but will Jen be all right? Will she and Orli have a 'happily every after'? A thousand questions run through Michelle's brain as she stares at Rachel, still lying on the ground in pain, but not any answers. Because, you see, the answers can only be found in good time...


	3. Chapter 3

Josh smiles and ducks Tobey's punch, then decides in disgust that he is a loser and sprints off to find Jen. He locates her in just minutes. After making sure she is fine (she is none the worse for wear despite her puffy eyes, straggly hair, runny nose and utterly ruined dress and makeup), they run out together. Jen's first move is to give Josh a fierce hug and sob out her fears to him. Josh murmurs words of comfort but his mind is on Michelle, who, incidentally, is only several miles away.

Disgusted with Rachel and her sniveling idiocy, Michelle wonders how she will ever find Orli. She finds it highly unlikely that Rachel will consent to lead her to him and has no idea where to begin a search. Clearly frustrated, we watch our favorite cute 'n' sexy chic run her hands through her slightly mussed brown hair. Go for a mansion, Michelle, we urge our girl silently, try that big one behind you! As if she hears our directions, Michelle does an about-face and runs up the marble steps of an impressive mansion, where she believes Orli is.

Inside, she looks around for a moment, awestruck and more than a little lost. She gazes around her, attempting to dredge up the physic powers that she believes she possesses to give her an indication as to where Orli is. Although her inner crystal ball seems to be very fogged over, she nevertheless tromps off in the correct direction (no doubt a coincidence). She breaks into a brisk trot within seconds, hearing a booger read: Rachel wailing in rage and ordering some guy (big and burly, no question) to go after her. After several wrong turns and a couple of correct ones, along with the strain of traveling several annoying staircases up and down, she finds a large, expensive wooden door with the label "Orlando's Room." Gee, Michelle thinks sarcastically, subtlety is obviously not her strong suit, in obvious indication of Rachel. Although the door is locked, as is expected, Michelle's cute 'n' sexy shorts have a number of useful pockets, and prominent in one of them is a very long, thin piece of wire that looks like a paperclip.

She masterfully picks the lock and springs the door open, announcing, "Orli, I've come to rescue..." but stops short, because it is not Orlando in the room. Hmmmm, Michelle thinks crazily, temporarily stupid with shock, I guess she's just a little bit smarter than I gave her credit for. Then she adds aloud, "This is bad. Do you think this is bad? I think this has great potential to be bad," addressing the persons lounging around the room and clearly waiting for her.

Josh and Jen, meanwhile (Jen having changed out of her ruined dress), are considering going back to the park where the wedding was supposed to be held, but then wonder if maybe Michelle might need some help. Of course, they know she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but as her soon-to-be husband and best friend. So they run off to the colossal mansion where Rachel Leigh Cook tends to be a lot to find Michelle.

Michelle stares, aghast, at Rachel and several very big guys with very big muscles. "Umm... I guess I'm in the wrong room, huh?" she asks, rather meekly, all things considered.

"Oh no, not at all," Rachel assures her. "Stay awhile... we've been expecting you."

"Ah, no... Don't think I will," Michelle answers with the senseless formality that she generally reserves for complete idiots. She turns and runs from the room, to the door across the hall labeled "Rachel's Room." Picking the lock more quickly than before, she cautiously peers around the door before bursting in.

Michelle surveys the room. It is large and looks relatively comfortable, cool despite the formidable heat of June. Silk curtains cover numerous windows. An expensive wardrobe houses a great variety of clothes that could well have come from Abercrombie and Fitch or been custom-made, every last. They're not skimping on money, that's for sure, Michelle thinks dryly. She continues her once-over of the room: Expensive makeup is scattered here and there; clearly, this is normally Rachel's room, as the door suggests. Lavish decorations adorn the walls and an unnecessarily large bathroom is connected to the unnecessarily large room. A king-sized bed with a very soft-looking mattress takes up roughly half of a wall. Masturbation

Lying on the bed, in a T-shirt and jeans, with his tux neatly hung up in an open closet, is Orli.

He looks up when Michelle comes in and smiles slightly. But his next words surprise the girl: "You better get out of here before they come after you."

"Who cares?" Michelle responds, too startled by this less-than-warm greeting to come up with anything clever to say. "They've been trying and it hasn't been working."

"You don't understand," Orli insists. "They won't hurt me, but they wouldn't hesitate to hurt you and I don't want to feel responsible for that."

Despite what sounds like an undercurrent of selfishness in his voice, Michelle is touched. He is worried for her.

In the meantime, Josh and Jen, like Michelle, manage to get lucky and find their way to "Orlando's Room," which, as you may recall, is not actually Orlando's room. Luckily, nobody is in this particular room, and the door is still opened from when Michelle picked the lock. So they head across the hall, to a locked door labeled "Rachel's Room." Yes, it's locked...

"How very touching," Rachel sneers in the general direction of Orli and Michelle, who both jump around at the sound of her voice. Clearly, she has overheard some part of their conversation. She moves toward Michelle, face twisted with very vast irritation. Michelle steps nimbly out of her reach, behind Orli, who has deliberately placed himself in front of her. He tells Rachel in no uncertain terms that if she harms Michelle in any way he will never learn to respect her, let alone love her.

At this point Rachel decides just to leave the two of them locked in the spacious room. She turns and exits, locking the door behind her.

And this is why the door is locked when Josh and Jen find it.

Luckily for Jen, the other half of the famous dream team is very skilled in picking locks, just like Michelle. Within seconds the door is opened and Orli and Michelle are revealed, deep in conversation. Josh clears his throat to get their attention, and they both look up, startled... just as the door slams behind them. Jen walks over to test it; to nobody's surprise, it is locked.

"Oh, way to go!" Michelle cries, applauding. "Really great, now what are we supposed to do?"

"Chill, Michelle," Jen commands, used to soothing her friend.

Michelle takes notice of the girl for the first time. "Jen!" she exclaims. "You're okay!"

But now that Jen has issued her order, her eyes travel past Michelle.

"Orli!" she cries, and throws herself upon him. He returns the fierce hug with a passionate kiss of his own. Josh, upon seeing Michelle, wraps her up in his own warm embrace. For several minutes little else happens. Then everyone just pulls him- or herself together as they try to figure out how to get out of the stupid room, which doesn't seem so big with one bed and four people.

Two hours and several blown temper fuses later, the quartet decides that they either have to jump from the second-story window (into sharp and pointy bushes), or someone has to sneak out the next time someone brings food. It seems rather risky to jump onto the bushes, but it may be even riskier to sneak out. They've noticed that someone comes in every hour or so, and none of them seem to be the brightest crayons in the box. Yet they feel fairly certain that someone will notice if one of them slips out the heavily guarded door and tries to get the rest of them out.

Michelle and Jen stand for this plan; Josh and Orli are against it because they have the foresight to know neither girl will let either of them go and will rather risk themselves. The guys are overruled.

Fifteen minutes later, after the heated arguments and pleadings are over, Michelle crouches quietly by the door, waiting. She is the one attempting to get out of the room because she is small and quiet enough around the people coming in to check on them that she may not be missed immediately. Plus, she knows how to pick locks.

Approximately 2.345719 minutes after this, the door opens (not without announcing itself with a series of very loud squeaks). Michelle tenses, ready to spring up and out the door. She surveys the immediate vicinity outside the room and notes, not without some measure of satisfaction, that no guard is standing outside the door. Silent and catlike, she springs out while the very homely lady in the room has her back turned.

The very homely lady grunts like the unattractive being she is, and questions, "Where's the fourth one? The short little girl," she adds, as if Jen, Josh and Orli don't know what she is talking about.

Jen is the first to venture a timid answer: "She... she went to the bathroom. Nature calls, you know," she continues, working up courage.

The hideous woman grunts and leaves. All three occupants of the room wait with baited breath for a scream from the woman, thinking that Michelle may not be far enough away. To their immense relief, there is only silence- at least, until the maid starts humming a terrible tune, probably from the 1800s, for company in her scratchy little voice. Jen has to stifle a most unladylike snort, while Josh struggles to keep silent and Orli falls onto the bed in a fit of laughter.

Michelle, free of the confining walls of the spacious room the four have been locked in, stares around for a moment, wondering where to go. Checking her pockets, she is reassured that she still has her paperclip to pick the lock (it's one of those weird ones that can only be picked from the outside).

Then, struck down by a sudden inspiration, she realizes that if she simply picks the freakin' lock and the other three just tumble out of the room, they will not know where to go and this will all be for nothing. So she sets out to explore a bit, which is a risky and life-threatening business, but along with her delusions of ESP, Michelle is laboring under the illusion that she is a dedicated hero.

She starts out her search by heading upstairs, attempting to remember how she made it to that particular room in the first place. She has to stop and duck out of sight every minute and a half or so, because any sound could be a person heading directly for her.

After about half an hour, she locates the grand and noticeable front door through which she came in. Retracing her steps, she finds the room in which her three best friends are stuck. It only takes her fifteen minutes this time.

The door is wide open, and nobody is inside.

When Michelle doesn't return in about a minute and a half, Josh, Jen and Orli get slightly worried. They hadn't actually discussed whether Michelle would come straight back for them or figure out how they could get out before coming back. So they must be content with reassuring themselves that Michelle is trying to find the front door.

Yet after nearly three-quarters of an hour, all three are worried sick. They are beginning to think their time would be better spent going after Michelle. Josh remembers that he can, after all, pick locks, and he does, after all, still have a very useful, bent-up paperclip in his pocket. So, he picks the lock.

Or, at least, he tries to. Recall that earlier, the only reason all four didn't tumble out of the room as soon as they were locked in is that for some reason, the door can't be picked from the inside; only the outside.

"Now what do we do?" Orli demands, in no mood to be calm. Josh himself is annoyed, and it blossoms into full-blown anger as Orlando starts acting like Josh has all the answers.

"Look, I don't know!" he yells, frustrated. "Why do you think I know? And what are you worried about, your future wife is already here, perfectly safe! We don't even know where Michelle is, or if she's okay, or if she's hurt, or..."

"Does that mean I shouldn't care about her too, just because I don't love her the way you do?" Orlando screams right back, red in the face. "She means as much to me as she does to you!"

Jen, unnoticed throughout this, has no luck trying to get Josh and Orli to stop. She listens to them argue for a full five minutes, then finally can't take anymore. "SHUT UP!" she screams, her own face going as red as Orli's with the effort the very loud sound makes. "Just STOP! Do you think I'm not worried too? And do you really think we're helping ANYTHING, anything WHATSOEVER, by sitting here yelling at each other about who's more worried about Michelle and who has the freakin' answers and who doesn't?"

Both guys stare at her for a full minute, in complete silence (a pleasant contrast to the last few minutes). Then Josh finally says, quietly, "She's right. You know... it's probably almost time for someone to come check on us... Forget subtlety, can we just barrel out the door when they come in maybe ten minutes...?"

He is interrupted by the door rapidly opening, and a small man (who looks very strong nevertheless) bursts into the room. Jen, Josh and Orli exchange looks, then run past him into the hall, in search of Michelle.

Michelle, when she reaches the empty room, has two thoughts:

One: Somebody must have moved them because they noticed I was missing and didn't want me to find them, or else they got out somehow, in which case I'll really never find them.

Two: I'd really better get out of here before more people come back... If they've noticed I'm missing but the others aren't they'll be expecting me to come back looking for them.

Maybe Michelle would have had three or four thoughts, but there is no time; she hears rapid footfalls and looks up. Several big, burly men are heading down the hall towards her.

She has only one thought now:

RUN!


	4. Chapter 4

Michelle runs. That's all we have to say about her right now. But we'll see her again soon, in case you were worried.

Josh, Jen and Orli are all great sprinters, but despite this fact they have only gone several yards when they hear the little man in the room start yelling for "Guards! Guards!" They look at each other in mutual agreement and run even fast.

Josh and Orli's compromise doesn't last long; within three minutes, out of breath and frustrated, having seen no sign of Michelle, they are at it again. This time, the topic they are arguing about seems to be Jen: Orli is accusing Josh of not caring about Jen because all he ever seems to think about is Michelle. Jen would normally shut them up, but since the topic of conversation is herself and she is rather flattered by all the attention, she merely listens amusedly, quite enjoying herself.

Orli starts the argument: "You know, Josh, you're my best friend and everything, and I understand that you're in love with Michelle, and you know I care about her, but why is it that you never want to talk about Jen? I talk about Michelle with you all the time and I've listened to you mooning over her and telling me how wonderful she is, and you know I love her and respect her and she's one of my best friends, but we've never actually had conversations like that about Jen. It's like you don't even care about her! Everything has to be about you and Michelle!"

Josh, shocked, realizes that a portion of what Orli is saying is true, but certainly not the part about him not caring about Jen. But rather than calmly correct Orli's misconceptions, he feels anger rising in him rapidly and lashes back out at Orli. "How can you possibly say I don't care about Jen? I know Michelle helped you two get together, but Jen helped Michelle and me in the same way! It's just because Jake was a part of the picture… And not that you ever asked… But you know, Michelle wasn't even really my girlfriend until maybe a few hours ago! Of course I'm mooning over the girl; we only just got together! But that doesn't mean I don't love Jen like you love Michelle! She's one of my best friends too; just because I'm not in love with her and I think about Michelle more sometimes… I think Jen's an amazing girl and I'm eternally grateful to her and I could never thank her enough for helping me the way she has and how can you just go off and say I don't care about her!"

Orli, completely worked up by the end of this little speech, continues to yell at Josh. "You don't even care about her! You hardly know her! You don't know what she's like and I know everything you've ever told me about Michelle, and we've never had one single conversation just about Jen! We were getting _married_, Josh, and we were there in the dressing room and you were _still_ talking about Michelle!"

Josh is shocked by this; after all, Orlando was talking about Jen, and they were arguing over who was the better girl; of course he was talking about Michelle! Still, maybe he's right… He might have a_ right _to be upset because it's true that they've almost never talked about Jen… It doesn't matter to Josh; it's only an unfair accusation to him. "Okay, Orlando," he says angrily, abandoning the group's pet nickname for him. "Have it your way. You wanna talk about Jen? Okay, let's talk about Jen! She's great, and she's amazing, and I love her like I would love a sister and she is one of my best friends in the world, including Michelle, and you most of the time, and I don't know what I would be doing now without Jen, and I owe my life to her and I'm eternally in her debt, and I wouldn't give up her friendship for the world because she is one of the most wonderful people I have ever known, including Ben when we were shooting _Pearl Harbor_, and I would give up my life as a actor before I gave up her friendship, or yours, for that matter, even though it doesn't feel very much like that right now, and if you wanna talk about Jen anytime, just call me up and let me know!"

Orli has nothing more to say; he can sense a certain sincerity in Josh's anger and knows he means every word. Jen feels the same thing and is very flattered; she never knew Josh thought all that about ordinary little her and it feels good to hear him say that.

Michelle, like the other three, is a great sprinter (she had lots of practice running back and forth to California to bring Orli to Jen, which was probably the smartest thing she ever did, except have impeccable taste in cute 'n' sexy clothes).

She is fast.

The guards are faster.

Actually, they aren't, but Michelle is obviously tired, from fear and her very tense excursion through the whole house, and not running quite as fast as she could be, which is a very bad idea when one is running for one's life.

The guards catch up to her, still running and stumbling and puffing along. One of them, the biggest of the lot, dives at her, falling to the ground and knocking her down as well in the process. But when he straightens, one thick, muscular arm is wrapped around her body, holding her close and pinning her arms effectively. Michelle's efforts to get free are futile.

Rachel steps out from behind her bodyguards and gives over a moment for a very triumphant smirk at a glaring Michelle. "Do you feel smart now, Michelle? Do you feel strong and powerful and special? You're completely at my mercy, Michelle. Does that make you feel better than me?" She pries open one of Michelle's clenched hands and casually pulls the diamond engagement ring that Josh gave her off of her finger. She holds it up to the light, admiring it and the pretty patterns it makes on the far wall, then slides it onto her own slender finger. The smile she gives a struggling Michelle is full of poison.

Then she goes off to find Josh, Jen and Orli, to inform them that their friend will be held hostage until Josh and Jen, whom she has no interest in, leave, and Orli agrees to stay.

Our favorite trio (Josh, Jen and Orli, duh) is heading through a hallway leading to Lord-only-knows-where when Orli spots Rachel. He alerts the others, and they all turn in the opposite direction, but it is too late. Rachel has seen them.

In a very strong voice they didn't know she was capable of, Rachel yells, "Wait! I think I may have something that might interest you, or should I say, some_one_…."

In spite of themselves, all three stop and turn towards her. "What do you mean?" Josh asks roughly, immediately thinking of Michelle.

"There seems to be someone missing from your little group, and I believe I may have found her, and if you ever want to see her again…." Again, Rachel doesn't finish her sentence, but trails off and leaves the rest to everyone's very vivid imagination.

"You can't prove it," Jen says coolly, despite her instincts screaming at her to RUN! RUN! RUN!

"Oh, I really, really could," Rachel answers with a smirk. "Now, I have a little proposition for you. You two," she continues, indicating Josh and Jen, "can leave. I have no problem with you… yet. And if you leave, I never will. And trust me, you don't want me to have a problem with you."

"What about Michelle? And Orlando?" Jen demands, moving closer to Orli. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close in silent comfort.

"Now, what do you think?" Rachel responds amusedly.

"Not happening," Josh says, speaking for all three. "Besides, how do we know you really even have her?" In silent response, Rachel holds up her hand. A diamond engagement ring glitters in the light. Josh pales considerably. "You…" he begins, too angry to finish. However, Rachel is able to fill in the blanks all by herself. "You could all stay, you know; I have no problem with that. It's easy to make people's lives miserable…."

"Where is she?" Josh demands.

Rachel smiles. "Follow me."

Three hallways and one staircase later, Josh, Jen and Orli encounter Rachel's bodyguards. Sure enough, Michelle is in the grasp of a very large one, still struggling to break free. All three stop, frozen.

"Are we screwed?" Orli says meekly to Josh and Jen. "It feels like we're screwed."

"No," Josh answers, a grim determination in his voice that the other two have never heard before.

Josh dives at the nearest bodyguard, taking him by surprise and knocking him down. The bodyguard recovers his wits quickly enough, however, and sends a fist flying at Josh's head. But by the time it reaches him, said body part is elsewhere. Josh starts hitting him and in two seconds flat they are, in all technical sense, brawling.

"Josh!" Michelle, Jen and Orli simultaneously cry in horror.

Orli can't just stand by and watch, so he "pulls a Josh," so to speak, and dives into the fray.

"No!" Jen yells, but what else is there for her to do? She can't just stand around waiting for something to happen to her, too. She sneaks around back of the big, burly guy holding Michelle and jumps on him, catching him by surprise, and Michelle in the side. "Ouch!" she yelps as Jen kicks her.

"Sorry!" Jen cries. "But there's a time for caution and this ain't it!"

"Not a problem," Michelle mutters as she attempts to kick the stupid burly guy, who, unlike the guard Josh is fighting, doesn't have any wits to recover. She can't do any real harm, but apparently she catches him in the shin, and however impressive his arm muscles are, he obviously has never played soccer, and she appears to have found his weak spot. He yelps in a surprisingly high voice and drops Michelle, who, caught off guard, falls and hits the marble floor with a noise that makes Jen wince in sympathy.

"I'm fine," she assures her, voice unusually bright. "I need to be hit in the head every now and then… keeps my brain from falling out…"

Jen smiles, relieved and feeling very smart because she has pulled her own heroic act for the day. The two girls duck out of the mainstream of the battle. Michelle looks for Rachel, finding her in seconds. She nods significantly in her direction. Jen, remembering Josh's face when Rachel showed him _Michelle's_ engagement ring on _her_ hand, smiles grimly in silent agreement. Both girls fly at Rachel, knocking her to the ground. Michelle rudely yanks her ring off Rachel's finger and places it back on her own. Then she clambers up on top of Rachel, smiling down at her in something that can be safely and accurately referred to as "cruel irony." "Do you feel stronger and special now, Rachel? Do you feel better than me? What's it feel like, without your bodyguards to protect you?" she hisses. Rachel startled look suddenly changes to one of smugness. Michelle, without turning around, knows that another bodyguard is right behind her. She sighs laboriously and turns, getting ready to punch him in the stomach.

Jen, meanwhile, has run off around the corner so as not to get killed, and also to find Orli. She manages the latter quite successfully- in fact, she and Orli crash into each other as Orli, who has run from the fight and guards (under orders from Josh to get away), comes back looking for everyone else, but Jen especially.

"Ow!" both yelp as their noses bang. Jen gets ready to swing out and hit him, but just in time recognizes the voice. "Orli!" she cries joyously, leaning against him in a hug of sorts. He wraps his strong arms around her in both relief and reassurance.

"Are you okay?" Jen asks. "What happened? Why would you just jump on someone like that- you could have been hurt! Where are the other two? We have to get out of here!"

Orli, slightly overwhelmed by this flood of questions and exclamations, takes a moment to absorb everything, then answers only her third question- why he went looking for trouble. "I just couldn't help picturing you in that position instead of Michelle," he says simply.

Jen cuts off what she was about to say, touched. Rather than criticize her very-soon-to-be husband for what she sees as his serious lack of judgment, she turns her face up for a long-overdue kiss, and gets it.

It is Josh.

_Good thing I didn't punch him_, Michelle thinks, temporarily freaked out by what she almost did.

Josh sticks his hand out. "Are you okay?"

Michelle takes the proffered hand and climbs unsteadily to her feet, conveniently stepping on Rachel's stomach in the process. Michelle leans against Josh for a moment to regain her balance, and he returns the hug. "We were worried," he whispers.

Michelle, wits firmly back in place, steps back in horror. "Where're Orli and Jen? What happened? Are they okay? What about you? How are we supposed to get out of here_ now_? And why, why, why are you here?"

Josh stares. "We came because we were worried about you, and Orli and Jen are fine, and we really need to get out of here; questions later, please."

Michelle shrugs and sprints around the corner with him, to where Orli and Jen are waiting, both safe and unharmed.

Two hours later, the entire quartet is safe, far away from Rachel's mansion, with little incidences. They are trying to avoid the topic of what just went down. Josh and Jen are absorbed in conversation, Jen having started it by telling Josh she was flattered by everything he said about her when he and Orli were arguing. Josh, surprised that she hasn't realized any of this, immediately feels guilty and starts listing all her best qualities, with an occasional "Awww, thanks" or "You're so sweet, Josh!" or "Okay, now _that's_ not true" from Jen. Orli walks on Jen's other side, smiling; the two are hand in hand and both feel a closeness the like of which has never fully existed between them. Neither of them will be worried when they finally have their wedding ceremony.

"So," Michelle says with a bright grin, strange considering what the four have just been through, and with an uncanny echo of that last thought, "how about that wedding, huh?"

A mere week later, only several hours before the wedding, Jen is thinking about her marriage and wonderful husband and how breathtaking and amazing the whole ceremony will be, and of course her beautiful dress… OMG! It was ruined! She completely forgot about that; we don't know how

She calls her best friend. It's only ten in the morning, and Jen knows full well that Michelle doesn't get up that early, but gosh darn, this is _important_! Jen grows more impatient with every ring- three in all.

"MICHELLE!" she screams. "MICHELLE!" WHERE ARE YOU! MICHELLE!"

"Wha- what? Jen, what's wrong?" Michelle sounds groggy, not yet fully awake.

"I DON'T HAVE A FREAKIN' WEDDING DRESS, MICHELLE, HOW THE HELL CAN YOU ASK ME WHAT'S _WRONG_?" Jen is still screaming.

Michelle sounds wide awake now. "Jen, chill! It's not impossible to buy one… it didn't take you long to find the other one at all… you liked the first one you tried on best, as I recall. Why don't you give me half an hour to shower and then-" a note of something that Jen finds herself unable to analyze enters her voice "-you can come over and we'll go from there."

Jen is outraged. "Michelle, that had to be the last dress of that kind in the city! You know how much it meant to me! I don't want any other dress! But I don't even have a dress at all, Michelle! How can you be so calm? I really think this qualifies as an emergency and you have to _shower_ before I can have my emergency?"

"Fine," Michelle grumbles, but she is not heartless, and she has plenty of compassion. "I'll brush my hair out… come right over now, okay?"

Jen isn't all that reassured, but she is calmed by Michelle's down-to-earth tones. "Okay," she relents.

Five minutes later Jen's bright red Ferrari is rushing to a screaming stop in front of Michelle's two-story brick house. Jen clambers out and absolutely sprints up the walkway. Michelle pulls open the door before she can ring the bell. "Come on in," she says, improperly cheerful but at least looking and sounding more awake.

Jen follows Michelle into the foyer, wondering…. Something weird is going on….

Josh, to Jen's surprise, is in the foyer already- surely Michelle would have told her if they were living together?- but Jen brushes that aside as she sees what is neatly draped over her favorite chair in Michelle's house.

"Oh my God," she whispers, shocked.

Michelle smiles knowingly at Josh, who returns the gaze, then both look at Jen, who is busy examining an exact replica of her own wedding dress. Jen stares, amazed, realizing that of course Michelle would know exactly what dress she bought; she was with her when she went shopping, and Michelle has a knack for memorizing numbers… she must have remembered exactly what model and brand and size her dress was right from the beginning, almost as if she has foreseen disaster.

Jen turns to the couple, shocked. "I can almost understand how you would know this, but not _why_… it cost a small fortune."

Michelle smiles, still utterly calm and serene. "And believe me, we paid a small fortune. I had it rush ordered when I realized last night that you hadn't bought another dress yet. I figured you wanted to forget everything that happened, and that could be why you forgot about it…. Anyway, I feel like I owe you something; I can't explain it, but I do. And I want you to realize that I want everything about your wedding, and reception and honeymoon afterwards, to have everything to do with _you_, and that should start, somehow, with _me_ buying _you_ your dream dress. I wanted everything to be perfect today. You deserve it, Jen. You deserve so much more than an expensive wedding dress, so much that I can't give. So, I started here. And if you're worried, I didn't pay for the whole thing… Josh and Orli knew too; they helped me out. But," she continues in a sudden rush of guilty honesty, "I know I should have told you… it was late though and I figured you would want to get your beauty sleep… I'm sorry."

"How can I…" Jen begins.

Michelle holds up a hand as if to ward off the words she knows are coming. "Don't. Like I said, I feel like I owe you something, and while I know it wasn't my fault or anything- for once- I feel bad for everything that happened, although I can't explain that either. So… I believe you have a wedding to get ready for?"

Jen stares at her, confused.

Several hours later, a crowd is assembled in an indoor church.

By unspoken mutual agreement, all four know that nothing can possibly go wrong to ruin this day, and none are worried.

The ceremony begins.

The little flower girl walks down the aisle, throwing her delicate flower petals. Michelle and the other bridesmaids follow, Michelle never once faltering in movement. At last, Jen comes in, on her father's arm. Radiant with the joy that this day brings, she stands by Orli, face alight with happiness.

The priest, different this time than the last one, makes the same announcement: Jen and Orli are reciting their own vows. Orli begins.

"Jennifer, I have waited so long for this day. I know how cliché it sounds, but I really did love you the moment I set eyes on you. I love everything about you, Jen- your beauty, your spirit, your determination, your sweet disposition, your spunk, your whole character. I knew when I saw you that I wanted to know you for the rest of my life, and I can think of no better way than this. Jen, mere words can't possibly do justice to the way I feel about you. You are beyond any words I could speak.

"Last week I thought I might never see you again. It scared me, Jen. It scared me like I have never been scared in my life. Sometimes I don't feel like I know all that much, but I will always know this: I never want to feel that way again.

"Two weeks before that, I wasn't really sure of what I was doing. I never doubted my love for you; that isn't what I mean. But I was so afraid of marriage… Husbands and wives always seem to be arguing, and so many marriages end in divorce… And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I knew I had driven you away from me, somehow. I was afraid of taking that final step. But now… Now I know I would never want anything else, now that I've been apart from you, not knowing if I would ever get to tell you this. So I'm telling you now. Some people carve the initials of the person they love on a tree, but a tree can be felled, and the initials can fade. So I've carved your name on my heart, where I know it will stay for the rest of my life and longer still.

"I love you, Jen. I want to love you forever.

"And if you give me the chance, I will."

_I wanna love you, forever_

_And this is all I'm asking of you_

_Ten thousand lifetimes, together_

It is Jen's turn now.

"Orlando… Orli, I don't know all that much of what there is to know in life. Sometimes I'm not sure of anything. And sometimes I don't really see the point of life, much as I enjoy it. I've always wondered… Is it going somewhere? Am I really making a difference in the world? Why am _I _here? What is my job in life?

"I saw you, Orli, and I knew all that. I feel that my life was created so that its path could cross yours. I know that, even if I may never make that big of a difference in the world, I can make a difference in one person's life- yours. I was sent down to Earth so that I could learn how to love, by meeting you. When I fell in love, Orli, I fell hard, and I fell fast. And at first I was afraid of love, because I was terrified of losing it. So many people give their hearts away and never get them back, and I didn't want to be like that. But the more I came to know you, the more I realized… I gave you my heart, but I didn't just get it back… You gave me yours with it.

"I was scared of making such a huge commitment… I wasn't sure I was ready to be a wife… But I'm standing here now, and I don't feel any fear, only love and certainty. I know that over half of all marriages end in divorce. But any example anyone could give is just another statistic to me. This isn't a statistic… It's you and me, Orli, and that's all that matters. I feel in my heart that it will all work out… I know it, Orli, because the love I feel for you could move mountains. Nothing can break it. I loved you before I met you.

"You don't have to give me a chance to love you, Orli. I always will anyway."

_I knew I loved you before I met you_

_I think I dreamed you into life_

_I knew I loved you before I met you_

_I have been waiting all my life._

_I knew I loved you…_


	5. Chapter 5

_You don't run with the crowd_

_You go your own way_

_You don't play after dark_

_You light up my day_

The wedding reception has begun. At Jennifer's request, the lilting sounds of "What Makes You Different (Makes You Beautiful)," by the Backstreet Boys, fill the room.

Orli leads Jen out onto the white dance floor in the middle of the elegant room, adorned with all sorts of foods that can be classified as "delicacies," as well as varieties of Beautiful People. Everything abandons Jen but this one perfect moment, and the beautifully haunting chant, "We're finally married… We're finally married."

On the contrary, floods of memories overcome Orli as he holds Jen close, swaying gently to the music. He sees the moment he first saw Jen and feels, again, the sheer happiness he felt on their first date, when they doubled with Josh and Michelle. Memories progress to every other date they had, covering roughly two years.

_Got your own sense of style_

_That sets you apart_

_Baby, that's why_

_You've captured my heart_

Orli relives the pain and fear he felt when he thought he might never see Jen again, along with a fresh surge of hatred for his new archenemy, Rachael Leigh Cook. He remembers what first attracted him to Jen, in almost the same instant: her indifference to what the world thought of her, her independence, her beauty from the inside out.

_I know sometimes you feel _

_Like you don't fit in _

_And this world doesn't know_

_What you have within_

Orli smiles fondly down at his new wife, remembering how out of place she seemed to feel when the first met, as though she felt she didn't belong among all those famous people. She'd looked so shy and overwhelmed, and yet so beautiful. Yet Orli had seen through it all, seen what she had to offer. _Asking Michelle to set us up on a date was probably the smartest thing I ever did,_ Orli muses now. _There's so much more to Jen than I ever would have guessed from that one party, when we met for the very first time. And she told me later that she would have been to shy to do something herself… I can't imagine what could have happened if I hadn't taken the initiative._

_When I look at you_

_I see something rare_

_A rose that can go anywhere_

_And there's no one I know_

_That can compare_

Orli notices Josh and Michelle watching them, not yet dancing; this song is only for the new husband and wife. He shakes off his thoughts, smiling quietly, and pulls gently on Jen's hair.

When she looks up, he rewards her with a sweet kiss, which she gladly returns.

_What makes you different, makes you beautiful_

_What's there inside you, shines through to me_

_In your eyes I see, all the love_

_I'll ever need_

_You're all I need, oh girl_

_What makes you different, makes you beautiful to me_

Orli remembers now what had to be the happiest moment of his life so far. It was their two-year anniversary of the time they had started dating. They'd gone out to eat at a nice, fancy restaurant, the name of which neither would ever be able to pronounce. Laughing together at the unfamiliar names of the French dishes and their attempts to pronounce them, Orli had suddenly grown serious. He leaned forward across the table and said, "Jennifer, we need to talk."

Orli smiles now, remembering how panicked Jennifer looked, as though she thought he was about to break up with her or announce that he needed some time off from her or had joined the army or something equally outrageous. Truly, he just wanted to talk about their relationship; he wasn't ready to propose yet, even though he felt it would be romantic, on their anniversary. He wanted first to be absolutely certain that Jen felt the same way about him as he felt about her; he still, despite regular displays of reassurance, felt remnants of uncertainty. He wanted, in other words, to know where he stood. But before he could get a word out, the waiter had come back with their food, placed the dishes (tasty-looking despite names that were iffy at best) in front of them, and lit two tall, elegant, off-white candles. Watching the candlelight flicker off Jen's face, Orli made his decision.

_Hey, yeah, you got something so real_

_You touched me so deep (touched me so deep)_

_See, material things_

_Don't matter to me_

_So come as you are, you've got nothing to prove_

_You won me with all that you do_

_And I want to take this chance to say to you_

"Jen," he began, slightly awkwardly, "Jen… God, Jen, I love you so much."

Jen smiled, in that soft way she had, the same smile she gives Orli even to the present. "I love you too," she replied, with quiet but firm sincerity, knowing even as she spoke the words how cliché they sounded. But those four words seemed to be enough for Orlando.

It never crossed Orli's mind for a moment that Jen might accept a wedding proposal from him for money or fame. She wasn't that kind of girl. He had learned early on in their relationship that material things meant little to her. And they didn't mean anything to him, either. Sure, he could afford the diamond engagement ring that was currently lost somewhere in one of his ten thousand pockets, but he could have fashioned Jen a ring out of bright orange pipe cleaner (the most revolting color in the Crayola box), and she would have loved it just because it came from him. But, as things stood, he _did_ have a diamond ring, and if he could find it, he was certainly going to give it to her.

"Jen…" Orli fumbled around in the many pockets of his formal jacket, clearly attempting to find something, Jen thought. Her heart skipped a beat, hoping, hoping…

And then it came.

"Jen… will you marry me?"

Jen stared at him for a moment, happiness evident on every line of her sweet face. When she spoke, it was only one single word, but every ounce of conviction and certainty that she possessed went into saying it.

"Yes."

_What makes you different, makes you beautiful_

_What's there inside you, shines through to me_

_In your eyes I see, all the love_

_I'll ever need_

_You're all I need, oh girl_

_What makes you different, makes you beautiful to me_

Orli smiles now, lost in sweet remembrance. _At the end of that night_, he remembers, _we went down to the beach and just sat there talking about everything… our lives together, a wedding and honeymoon, where we would live, why I took so long to propose… I was so scared she would refuse, wouldn't be ready for that kind of commitment. When I told her as much, she just laughed softly and told me she had been waiting for me forever, had been dreaming of someone like me practically since the day she was born._ _I'd told Michelle and Josh I was going to try and propose, and they were waiting for us when I dropped Jen off, and they both ran out to meet us… They looked happier than I did, practically. Jen told me later that she and Michelle stayed up the whole night talking… talking about their futures… with us._

_You don't know how you touched my life_

_Oh in so many ways I just can't describe_

_You taught me what love is supposed to be _

_You saw the little things that make you_

_Beautiful to me (so beautiful)_

It's Jen's turn to remember everything that has happened to them, everything that led up to this one perfect moment. Her memories are very different from Orlando's, in some way, because she knew of him long before she met him. Her first flood of memories takes place before she actually met Orlando. She recalls, very clearly, seeing him for the first time, as Legolas in _Lord of the Rings_.

She thinks of the roughly ten thousand websites dedicated to him, that she used to moon over before she met him. When she went along with Michelle to a party for the cast of _Black Hawk Down_ and actually _met_ Orlando in person, though, she stopped needing the websites because she had him. And he was better than any picture the Internet could offer.

_What makes you different, makes you beautiful_

_What's there inside you, shines through to me_

_In your eyes I see, all the love_

_I'll ever need_

_You're all I need, oh girl_

_What makes you different, makes you beautiful to me_

Orlando wasn't quite like any person she'd ever met. Jen had read that he was into kissing girls in movies, and that intimidated her. Even though she all but worshiped him, she was afraid that he would one day wake up, roll over in bed, and believe he was dating a worthless baby who didn't move a hundred miles an hour. She couldn't have been more wrong, though. Orli had admitted that yes, he did like kissing pretty girls on the big screen. But in private, he was a whole different person. He completely respected that she didn't want to move fast.

Orlando loved her for who she was, and he had changed her entire life in so many ways she couldn't even begin to count. She was a better person just by having known him. She would have been too shy to ask him out at first, and was glad that he had taken the initiative. If he hadn't, they probably never would have gotten together. At first, she had been afraid Orlando would look right past her, to someone who was more beautiful, glamorous, famous, more _ready_ to be a girlfriend. She had been very humbled by going out with somebody so famous, and she was afraid he would be very arrogant and impatient with somebody not used to the glamorous lifestyle. But he wasn't. He was kind and patient and so, so wonderful. And that made all the difference.

_Everything you do is beautiful (so beautiful)_

_Love you give shines right through me (shines right through me)_

_Everything you do is beautiful (oh)_

_You're beautiful to me (to me)_

Now, with the same thoughts, both Jen and Orli realize that the song is almost over. They become aware of each other once again, gently pushing away the memories, to be examined later. Jen looks up to her new husband and smiles- the same smile, Orli muses, that she gave when she accepted his wedding proposal. Orlando smiles back at Jen now, and they kiss again, with passion.

The reception continues, and Jen's only thought is to make the music last forever. She will have years of happy marriage to Orlando. Lost in the music, she loses also all sense of time, overpowered by the reality set before her: never again will she be alone; she will always have her husband beside her. Everything changes today, but for just another moment she wants it to stay the same as it always was, just her and Orli, dancing, dancing, dancing…


	6. Chapter 6

Please note, there is a tense shift here. I didn't plan it, but the chapter came to me partially formed, and it was in past tense.

It was warm the day they left. They stood on the deck, waving at Josh and Michelle on the dock. Jenn sighed happily and leaned her head on Orli's shoulder, still smiling and waving at her best friends, even though their faces were being rapidly reduced to mere spots as the ship moved smoothly and silently out of the harbor. When their faces were no longer visible even as tiny specks, Jen allowed her arm to drop to her side. The smile on her face she turned up to her new husband, who, to her mild surprise, was waiting for her gaze to meet his. He kissed her softly, like he'd been doing every five minutes since the two had been legally declared "husband and wife." He seemed, Jen mused, to be trying to reassure himself that she was still his, that it wasn't all just a dream.

Not that she minded. At all. She, too, sometimes had trouble believing it all; it was so hard to believe her good fortune. Orlando Bloom, worshiped or at least admired by roughly half the people on the planet, had looked past everyone in the glamorous life he led, to reach for Jennifer ("Jennifer Who?" the world repeated, dumbfounded), Jennifer of Nowheresville, U.S.A., Jennifer, ordinary everyday girl. That, to Jenn, said a lot more than any words he could speak ever would.

They had met and dated under casual, almost coincidental circumstances. That famous Orlando Bloom would ever propose to not-so-famous Jennifer Trayan was enough of a miracle in itself, to Jenn. She could not believe it would ever have come to this.

And yet, it had. Orli had told her the night of the wedding that he had tickets for a three week cruise, stopping in the Caribbean Islands, the Bahamas, and Bermuda, to hit the highlights Jenn had had no idea that Orlando had planned anything, especially something that she hadn't agreed to, but at the same time she was thrilled because she couldn't have planned a more ideal honeymoon if she'd been given a lifetime to try.

And now here they were, in first class of an elegant ocean liner. A gentle breeze played across their faces, picking up Jenn's hair and flirting with it. In the distance, a seagull screeched, but the grating sound reached their ears as a comforting noise associated with the open ocean, bringing back fond memories of childhood trips to the beach. And everywhere there was a faint but invigorating smell of the sea. It was that mild but consistent ocean scent that took the final step in convincing Jen that she was not dreaming.

_I could stay here forever_, she thought dreamily. _Is there any greater paradise than this?_

Well… yes, there was. Jenn snapped abruptly back to reality as she suddenly became aware that Orli was tugging gently but insistently on her hand, and, she judged from the slightly amused look, mingled with traces of affectionate impatience, on his handsome face, he had been for some time.

"Sorry," Jenn said sheepishly as she allowed herself to be pulled across the deck to the cabins behind them.

Orlando led Jen down a hallway carpeted in a deep, mahogany red. Various paintings lined creamy beige walls. Tall, thin lamps, designed to resemble fancy streetlights, but with beige lampshades to match the walls, gave the whole hallway a soft, warm, welcoming glow. Jenn found herself drinking it all in eagerly, not wanting to miss a thing. Her eyes were wide with awe and delight. Orlando watched her, amusement in his eyes. "Like it?" he asked with a gently mocking laugh.

"I love it! It's so amazing," Jenn breathed.

Orli smiled and continued down the hallway, stopping at last at a door marked A33 (even the door, made of a dark wood and polished to perfection, was a marvel in itself, Jenn mused). Orli presented Jenn with a brass key engraved with the room number before turning to insert its duplicate in the lock on the door. After a moment of fumbling, the door sprang open.

If Jen had been stunned by the breathtaking elegance surrounding her before, it was nothing compared to what she felt now. The room before her eyes was colossal. A king-sized bed lay against one wall. Already neatly made, it boasted a simple, patterned cream quilt and many fluffy pillows, a contrast to the deep mahogany of the headboard. Matching nightstands displayed identical alarm clocks, brand-new Bibles and lamps, already lit and complete with beige lampshades. A landscape painting of a lake was portrayed over the bed.

Directly across from the bed was a wooden mahogany dresser. A phone lay perched on its left corner; a lamp matching the two on the night tables graced the right. A beautiful jewelry box sat in the middle; over two dozen showy pieces of jewelry, clearly visible through the glass windows of the jewelry box, sat winking benignly up at the couple as they caught the light, waiting for further use. A gilt-framed, full-length mirror lay to the right of the dresser, in a corner of the rectangular-shaped room.

To the left of the door was a desk that matched the rest of the furniture in the room. A desk lamp in pale beige sat in the upper left hand corner, and a great stack of the ship's finest stationery sat next to an assortment of pens.

Directly across from the door, on the other side of the room, was a vanity table, complete with dozens of brand-name cosmetics and lights winking around the mirror. Jenn saw herself in the mirror; her mouth was open in shock.

Jenn stepped into the room, barely noticing the carpet (a deep, rich red), the walls (a soft, creamy sort of beige) or the elegant fan that hung from the ceiling and somehow held its own in the room full of overrated elegance (not that Jenn minded it). What did catch her attention, however, was the white door by the vanity table. She walked over to it and pushed it open.

It led, as she had expected, into a bathroom. Her immediate thought was that she could spend her entire honeymoon in this bathroom and be happy the whole time. Unlike the main room, filled with soft beiges and creams, the tiled floor and painted walls were a blunt white. A toilet was separated from the rest of the room by an enclosing wall and another door. Two sinks were set beneath yet another mirror. Two cups, multiple bars of scented soaps, several brands of toothpaste and a few toothbrushes graced the white countertop. A quick inspection of the wooden cabinets underneath revealed multiple tissue boxes, brushes and some mild medicines, including Advil, Tylenol, Ibuprofen, Midol and something that looked like pills to counteract seasickness. The bathtub, Jenn thought, more closely resembled a swimming pool and had several kinds of bubble baths perched around its edges. A rack of fluffy white towels and washcloths lay next to it. Jenn noticed, looking to the left of the bathtub, that the separate shower had three steps leading up to it; it was raised above the ground level. Then she realized that the bathtub/swimming pool was connected to the shower by a glass door, and one could just climb up out of the tub and into the shower. _Must be some crazy new invention_, she thought. Although not at all sure she would prefer this to a regular shower, Jen was always ready to try something new and exciting, so she registered no comments or complaints. The whole room, she noticed now, was awash with the soft glow of a golden chandelier.

Jenn stepped back into the bedroom, noticing one plush velvet chair in a corner by the bed, and two others in the opposite corner. She sank gratefully down into the one closest to her, noticing another door as she did, and assuming it led into an enormous walk-in closet.

Orli took the chair next to her, sweeping his arm out to indicate the room at large. "So… home for the next three weeks. Think you'll survive it?" he teased.

"Wow," Jenn managed. It came out as a breathless whisper. "I… wow."

Orli laughed. "You want to lie down awhile before dinner?" he asked; they had, after all, had to get up at five to be on the ship by eight.

Jenn was very open to this idea, and indeed tried unsuccessfully to stifle a huge yawn, before plopping herself down on the endlessly soft bed. Within five minutes she was sound asleep.

Orli chucked to himself and, not at all tired just yet, began to move some of his clothes into the closet (their luggage had been brought up earlier, by the ship's bellhops). _I think this trip will be all right_, he thought reflectively as he hung up his fifth suit. Jenn had begged him not to take so much, but Orlando, who had been on fancy ships before, knew better than to show up at every meal every day in the same tuxedo. He'd also packed a few extra dresses for his wife, so that she could hold her own against the admittedly overrated but ever-present glamour of the other women in first class. Granted, his reasons might seem, and probably were, superficial, but he just didn't want the other ladies to scorn Jen; he knew how heartless they could be.

For the next three hours, Jenn slept hard while Orli finished unpacking his belongings, moved on to Jenn's and paced restlessly when there was nothing more to do. _I guess Jenn didn't get much sleep last night_, he mused as he glanced at his slumbering wife, who hadn't stirred since she first fell onto the bed.

Suddenly, Orli found himself trying to smother a yawn. With a sigh of weary resignation, he lay down on the bed next to Jennifer, wrapping an arm around her and drifting off to sleep himself.

A few hours later Jenn awoke suddenly. For a moment she panicked, forgetting where she was. Then she relaxed, remembering. But alarm set in again almost instantly, as she recalled that dinner was at 6:30 in the dining hall. Since they were nowhere near an island destination, of course, grand dinners (with multiple courses) would be served each night, and while Jenn had heard that there were some nice restaurants (and some fast food restaurants) here and there around the ship, she thought it would be nice to see what food the chefs of this splendidly elaborate ship had to offer. She checked her bedside clock: a quarter to six.

As she relaxed once again, Jenn realized that Orlando had fallen asleep beside her, his arm around her. She smiled and carefully rolled over to face him, gently shaking him awake.

"Wha-what?" Orli mumbled groggily. His eyes glazed over and then refocused on Jen. "Oh. Hello. Did you finally wake up?"

"No," Jenn answered, playfully sarcastic, "I'm still asleep."

Orli grinned and sat up (he looked so young and vulnerable and adorable at the same time with those pillow creases on his cheek, Jenn thought idly). Like Jen, one of his first thoughts was the time. He knew how much it meant to his wife to eat in the dining hall the first night of their honeymoon. Upon learning that it was now ten to six, he jumped up and started rummaging through the closet for one of his nicer tuxes.

"Wow," Jenn commented, impressed. "You've unpacked already?"

"All of my things, and some of yours," Orli said, almost apologetically. "Hope you don't mind," he added with an impish grin.

"Not at all," Jenn assured him, pulling herself upright. "In fact, I'm grateful. I must have been pretty boring to talk to when I was asleep, huh?"

"Oh no," Orli began melodramatically. "If you woke one day and found you had no voice, I would happily spend the rest of my days looking upon your face and seeing your endless beauty, which will never fail to mesmerize me. I could sit for hours on end, counting every eyelash, stroking your silky smooth cheek, gazing into your soulful hazel eyes, in all of their exquisitely captivating beauty…"

"You've already used that word," Jenn informed him, interrupting. "That's a major no-no. First rule of poetry: never repeat yourself with words like, say, 'beauty,' unless it emphasizes or reiterates your point, not just because you can't think of another word." Seeing Orli's dumbfounded look, she explained, shamefaced, "I learned that from a certain- poetic- mutual friend of ours. Anyway, if you would like my advice… You are an amazing actor, and you have great looks going for you-" she tried to stifle a giggle as she watched her husband's expression change from flabbergasted to smug as he patted down his already-neat hair, neat, despite the fact that he had slept on it and hadn't yet brushed it, "-so leave the poetry to our dorky friend the bumbling idiot."

Orlando, who had initially looked slightly hurt, burst out laughing. " 'Bumbling idiot'? And who, exactly, assigned the poor girl that nickname?"

"She came up with it all by herself," Jenn said defensively.

"I'm _kidding_. It doesn't really surprise me though, I must say." Abruptly changing the topic, Orli asked, "Think it's time to get ready for dinner?"

"Yeah… hey, I've been meaning to ask you. What's with all the cosmetics and jewelry?"

Orli smiled, a bit sheepishly as though he knew Jenn would disapprove. "Well… I talked to the nice people in advance… This is all for you."

Jenn struggled with an unpleasant combination of strong gratitude, guilty pleasure and considerable annoyance. "Just because you have all this money doesn't mean you have to spend it all on me. Are you _trying_ to make me feel bad?"

Orlando was genuinely shocked. "Of course not! I just thought you might like…" He cut himself off as he noticed that Jenn was smiling. "Oh, don't _do_ that!" he cried in exasperation.

"Don't do what?" Jenn asked innocently.

"Don't talk at me like you're all mad and get me thinking I've offended you somehow!"

"Okay, okay," Jenn relented. "I'm sorry."

Orli relaxed and felt his own mouth melt into a smile. "So you aren't mad, are you?"

"Of course not," Jenn assured him. "But I just don't want you spending all this money on me, especially because I don't have as much to give you."

"But _I _want to," Orli murmured, cupping one hand behind her ear.

Jenn's initial affectionate annoyance faded. She smiled. "Oh, all right. Maybe I'll yell at you more later," with no intention of doing so, and Orli knew it. He returned her smile, with renewed feeling, then strode over to the jewelry box on the dresser and pulled out a matching necklace, bracelet and earring set. A gold rose dangled from a short, thin gold necklace chain, as well as from an equally thin bracelet band. Gold, dangling earrings ended in identical roses.

"Oh, they're beautiful!" Jenn breathed. "They would go so well with that slinky black dress- the full-length one with spaghetti straps and a somewhat… low… neckline."

"Yeah, I know the one," Orlando answered, his eyes lit up with a mischievous twinkle and the corners of his mouth turned upward in a devilish grin.

"You're awful!" Jenn cried, not meaning it at all. "Anyway, the problem is, I didn't pack it."

"Sure you did," Orli said cheerfully.

"No I… oh Lord, _what_ did you do?" she demanded suspiciously, cottoning on almost immediately.

"Me?" Orli asked, all innocence. "I would never…"

"So tell me, just how many dresses did 'I' pack?" Jenn interrupted.

"Umm… oh come one, they looked lonely in your closet," Orli tried to explain. "But seriously, I just thought… I've been on big, fancy ships before, seen how overvalued fancy dresses are, seen how snobbish some women can be if they see you twice in the same dress…" he began, knowing any reason he gave would sound incurably superficial.

Jenn sighed, would-be anger melting away like ice cream on a hot July day.

"You're not mad, are you?" Orli asked anxiously.

"No." And it was the truth. Although Jenn did feel that Orli's trying to explain his reasoning would sound shallow, at the same time she understood him. Anyway, the jewelry in her hands _would_ perfectly complement her understated black dress and matching heels. She shook her head and went into the bathroom to change. When she came out and sat down at the vanity table, she was only mildly surprised to see that Orli had already changed into his best black tux. Jenn shook her head again as she put on loose powder, light pink blush, a small amount of black eyeliner with gold glitter eye shadow and a coat of mascara. She smiled at herself in the mirror as she applied nude lip liner and rosy pink lipstick, finishing with a matching coat of gloss. Orli came up behind her, grinning. "Ready to go yet?" he teased. "Or do you need another hour or two?"

"I know people who take longer," Jenn muttered, thinking of her bet friend, who tended to use roughly half a dozen eye shadow colors to create a different look every! single! day!

Orlando laughed at the miffed look on his wife's face, guessing her thoughts immediately. Smiling as he offered an arm to Jenn, he led the way down the hallway and to the dining hall.

"Someday I will learn my way around this ship," Jenn informed her husband.

"Yeah… I'm thinking, maybe in the fourth week of our three-week honeymoon?" Orlando suggested, unable to keep a straight face for longer than about two seconds.

"How long did it take you to learn your way around this particular ship?" Jen wondered. Orli had been on this ship once before.

"Only a few days," Orli answered seriously. "It's overwhelming at first, but there's a pattern to it, really. The souvenir shops are all that way-" pointing in one direction "-the nice restaurants are all in the same area, the pool, spa and sightseeing deck- not that there's much to see out in the middle of the ocean- are all near the stern of the ship…"

Jenn listened as he droned on, even though she forgot it all almost before she heard it. To really remember anything, she would have to see it herself.

Jenn barely noticed that Orli had stopped walking until she saw the engraved sign that read "Dining Hall."

"Shall we?" Orlando asked grandly, and he pushed open the door to the hall.

It was every bit as breathtaking and magnificent as Jenn had come to expect. New white tablecloths covered long, candlelit tables, with a soft chandelier over each table. A bouquet of red roses provided a centerpiece for each table. In the background, an orchestra played softly.

"Absolutely gorgeous," Jenn murmured, mostly to herself.

Orli heard her. "Not as beautiful as my girl," he responded, giving Jenn yet another quick peck on the cheek.

Dinner was enjoyable; they worked their way steadily through multiple courses as the orchestra continued to provide constant background noise. When the last dessert had disappeared, everyone danced. It didn't take long for an admiring crowd to form around Jenn and Orli, a dynamic dance duo if ever there was. And after dancing, the couple went back to their suite and fell into bed, exhausted from the excitement of a long day.

The second day was much the same as the first: relatively uneventful compared to what was in store. Jenn visited the salon after several hours swimming, and for awhile she and Orli just walked throughout the ship hand in hand, the envy of every eye with their classic good looks and the obvious love emanating from them. And as they walked, they talked.

Jenn started the first conversation with, "Remember when we first met?"

"Yeah," Orli answered, gazing straight ahead as though looking right into the past. "It was a cast party for _Black Hawk Down_. I remember, Michelle was there because she and Josh had been dating since he started filming _Pearl Harbor_…That's how they really met in the first place… Anyway, Josh invited her along since I obviously wasn't good enough company," he continued with a good-natured smile, "even though she wasn't much of one for parties, and I had asked her a few days before if she had any lonely female friends…"

"Lonely!" Jenn repeated, indignant. "I was not _lonely_…"

"Just someone in need of company," Orli teased, amused by her reaction.

"Were those the exact words you used? 'Lonely female friends'?"

"Umm…"

His hesitation said it all. "And all this time I've been thinking I should be _grateful_," Jenn muttered, but she wasn't really annoyed. She'd had her suspicions to begin with; Michelle had told her that Orli had asked her to bring Jenn along, and when Jenn asked if he'd asked for her specifically, Michelle went conveniently deaf and left the room. "Anyway," she continued, determined not to let that annoying word, "lonely," get to her, "She called me two days before the party and instructed me to get out and buy a dress, because I had 'a party waiting to be attended and a star waiting to be met,' as she put it. So of course I completely freaked out, but I managed to find a decent dress in time. Then, the night of the party…"

"You were standing all alone by the bar," Orli broke in, "because Michelle went off to… mingle… and incidentally I was the first person she bumped into. She gave me a nudge… actually, she gave me an elbow in the side… in your direction."

"Never was one for subtlety," Jenn commented dryly. "Anyway, I saw you coming and I got even more freaked out than I'd been about finding a dress. All I was interested in was finding the nearest exist… or at least a women's restroom…"

"Hey!" Orli interjected, hurt.

"Oh, don't take it personally. I was just absolutely convinced I would say something stupid, or that I might have something stuck in my teeth, or bad breath or something equally disastrous," Jenn said reassuringly. "It wasn't _you_ at all."

Mollified, Orlando continued the narrative. "I walked up to you and said, 'Hi.' And you…"

"Couldn't get it together," Jenn interrupted. "I was just thinking, what am I supposed to say to that? And this little rational part of me suggested saying hi back. But the rest of me said oh, come on, he must've heard that a million times before. Be creative. Be original. And the sensible part of me was thinking, there's really nothing creative about greeting someone who walks up to you. And then this third part of me broke in, wondering, did he just feed me a pickup line? What if he doesn't really care about me, what if he just wants someone to… oh Lord, I _never_ should have let Michelle talk me into wearing this dress, it's far too low, I bet everything is just _hanging out_, what if he's just trying to take advantage of me… Do I look like a hoe? Maybe that's the only reason he ever said anything to me at all, because I look like some dirty tramp, fresh off the streets. And meanwhile, the logical part of me was insisting, just say 'Hi,' he's starting to stare, my gosh, just say _something_, it isn't really that hard. But that third part of me was utterly convinced that you could see right down my dress, and maybe you… And the second part of me was still trying to come up with something clever to say, something wittier than 'Hello'…"

Orli couldn't hold it in any longer; he burst out laughing. "You _did_ look as if you were undergoing some painful internal struggle," he chuckled. "Mind you, that dress _was_ low, but I couldn't see anything, I swear, and I wouldn't have look even if I could."

"And the rational part of me just kept arguing with the 'he's-just-trying-to-seduce-me' part, and I opened my mouth and said…" Jenn continued, ignoring his interruption.

Orli was practically having convulsions, he was laughing so hard. "You said, 'Hi, what kind of a pick-up line is that? Despite what this dress might be telling you, I am _not_ a slut…'"

Jenn groaned in remembrance and covered her face with her hands, embarrassed.

Orlando managed to stop laughing just long enough to fall down on a nearby bench and reassure her, "Actually, I probably would have made Michelle set us up together even if you'd just said 'Hi' and we'd had a normal conversation, but with that I decided hey, I like this girl. She's got spunk. So don't be too embarrassed, even though I will never forget that…"

Jenn managed a laugh, face still beet red. "So it wasn't all bad, huh?"

"No," Orli answered firmly. "It was definitely not all bad." He pulled her close and kissed her, this time with unrivaled passion. "In fact," he continued when they pulled apart at last, "it was the best thing that could've happened to me…"

"I'm a dork," Jenn mumbled, speaking to her knees.

Orli didn't object. "But you're a lovable dork, which is better than being normal and boring."

Jenn changed the subject. "Remember our first date?"

"Oh Lord, how could I ever forget? We doubled with Josh and Michelle and went to that fancy restaurant…"

Jenn laughed. "And I was counting on both of them to be there if it got awkward, but they were so wrapped up in each other that they weren't much help."

Orli laughed. "Josh told me afterwards that they noticed everything, though. Lil' Devil over there told him not to help us out because she thought it would be, er… _amusing_… to watch us struggle to find something, anything, to talk about. Which they did. Although they _were_ pretty busy with each other…"

Jenn laughed and picked up the thread of the story. "We were sitting there watching them, and I don't know about you, but I was wishing we could be that easygoing and open with each other someday. Meanwhile I was aware of you sitting beside me, and I could practically _feel_ you, you were so tense. I was even more nervous than during the cast party; I was thinking, he's probably only doing this because Michelle knew I liked him, and he's friends with Josh, so they convinced him to come along just to make me happy…"

Orli grinned. "And you were just so wrong. What _I_ felt almost radiating off of you was that you were _nervous_! I thought maybe you were intimidated by me, or wishing you were somewhere else, because you felt obligated to be nice to me, since I was the one who said I wanted to see you again."

"And we never really said much. I excused myself after awhile to use the lady's room…"

"And Michelle left right after you, and Josh and I had a talk. I said, 'Help us out, man!' To which he responded, 'I'm under strict orders not to help out in any way, because Michelle wants something to tease Jenn about. Find something to talk about yourself.' And I practically _shrieked_ at him. 'WHAT?' Half the people in the restaurant turned around to look at us. 'Chill, Orlando!' Josh cried. He looked alarmed. 'All right… But don't tell Michelle. Ask her what she thinks about _Lord of the Rings_ (it had just come out recently by that time), and then…' this smile started tugging at the corners of his mouth and I wondered… 'Ask her what annoys her most, after you get talking awhile.' 'Why?' I asked, confused. 'Because,' Josh answered, 'well, you'll have to hear what she says first, but if she says what I think she will we should be in for an enjoyable argument from the girls.'"

"Does that make me too predictable?" Jenn worried. "As I recall, you _did_ ask me that, and Michelle and I were arguing for about fifteen minutes straight."

"Nah," Orli responded reassuringly, "Josh is just too smart, I guess. So what happened with you and Michelle in the restroom?"

Jenn laughed in remembrance. "I was sitting against the wall, talking to myself about what an idiot I was. When the door opened after about ten seconds, I figured it was Michelle. She came in absolutely _glaring_ at me and she asked, 'What is your problem, Jen! You have wanted to meet this guy for for-freakin'-ever! And now that you get the chance, you sit there like a complete LOSER and say NOTHING!'"

"Was she really that mad?" Orli asked, surprised.

"No," Jenn answered. "She's just like that. She wasn't mad at all, just a bit annoyed. And, being who she is, she decided to yell. Anyway, I just looked at her and snapped, 'You're not even helping us get started! Find something for us to talk about why don't you! Break the ice!' And she looked at me and said, 'Oh Lordy, Jenn, do it yourself! I took a solemn oath not to help you out…' I didn't let her get any further. 'WHAT?' I cried. 'I'm a sadist,' she answered with perfect sincerity. 'I like watching people squirm. Character flaw,' she added casually. 'But _as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted_, talk about the cast party or something. I mean, hello? It's the only place you've ever seen each other. Good common ground. Duh,' she added, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which I guess it was. So we both went back out and sat down again."

"And I turned to you and said, 'So what do you…' at the same time that you asked, 'So did you enjoy that cast party?' And Michelle was right, for once; it was good common ground," Orli commented. "And after that we talked about _Lord of the Rings_, much though I despised that since I hate thinking about my own movies…"

"And then you decided to ask what bothered me. And I said, 'Well, people who think they know everything in the world, people who are completely full of themselves, people who are annoyingly calm under any circumstances, people who _follow you into restrooms to yell at you because you can't find anything to talk about with a guy you just met_,' glaring pointedly at Michelle…"

Orli smiled. "And Michelle started talking about annoying people who nag her for weeks and months on end to meet people, and then won't talk to them when she finally sets them up…"  
"I could've _killed_ her," Jenn groaned. "There she was, blurting out that I had wanted to meet you _forever_, and acting like it was no big deal, like you weren't even _sitting right there listening to every word_!"

Orlando laughed this time. "And when I looked over at Josh to see if this was what he meant he was sitting there trying not to burst out laughing, and I found myself trying to hold back a laugh…"

"You failed. Miserably," Jenn informed him. "And when you laughed, Josh started laughing, and Michelle barely kept a straight face…"

"And _you_ were just sitting there blushing and I _heard_ you when you muttered, 'Michelle, I am going to kill you.'"

"You _heard_ that?" Jenn cried, horrified. "You must've thought I was awful."

"Nope," Orli contradicted. "I could tell Josh was used to this sort of thing because he had predicted it so well, so I decided I had better get used to it too, because I wanted to see you again…"

"Wow," Jenn commented. "If it had been you saying everything I said those first few dates, I would have run screaming in the opposite direction the first half-chance I got."

Orli laughed and continued reminiscing. "Our second and third dates we doubled, too, but on our fourth date we went out alone… remember?"

"Yeah," Jenn said dreamily. "We went to see one of those mushy romance movies, and we were laughing at it the whole time, straight through the serious parts, because it was so sad that it was hilarious."

"And afterwards," Orli continued without missing a beat, "we went down to the beach. They had one of those little shops down there, and we bought some Hawaiian Ice and walked along the beach, hand in hand…"

"Under a moonlit sky," Jenn finished. For once the two were making some halfway decent poetry together, even if it was rather cliché. "And nobody else was around, just us."

"And then it suddenly started to rain," Orli began, "one of those light drizzles that becomes a downpour within seconds. And that's how long it took for us to get absolutely soaked."

"But we didn't care," Jenn remembered. "I had curled my hair that night but it didn't bother me that it came down, because I was with you, and it didn't matter to you."

"And then we got caught up in the moment," Orli whispered, caught up in the very memory himself. "And…"

"We shared our first kiss," the two recited in unison.

"It was like fireworks exploding," Jenn declared. "Everything, even the waves breaking against the sand, was so magical in that instant."

"Should we relive it, then?" Orli asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes, but he was serious.

"Haven't we been the past few days?" Jenn questioned, half-joking but glad to consent.

Orli smiled. "I suppose," he answered when they broke apart. "Hey, remember when we went to Las Vegas because we wanted some time to ourselves without Josh and Michelle?"

Jenn grinned in remembrance. "What a vacation! This was something else that had happened after we got engaged, so we couldn't go anywhere without _your_ fan club chasing after us-"

"It wasn't all _my_ fan club," Orli objected, glaring but not angry.

"And we were staring at a fountain, pretending we didn't see anyone and that we weren't well-known, and you turned around and there was this little kid like, _right in your face_! And you lost your balance and fell into the fountain…" Jenn continued, ignoring the interruption.

Orli started laughing. "And when you reached your hand in to help me out, I pulled you down with me."

"And we got out, to about two hundred tourists taking pictures!"

"And when we got home two weeks later, Josh and Michelle came out to meet us and said, 'Something you two have to tell us?' And Michelle was holding a copy of _Entertainment Weekly_, with us, dripping wet, sprawled all over the cover!"

"And some fool had written this _ridiculous_ story about us and it was all Michelle talked about for a week! You have no idea how much I wanted to kill her," Jenn cried.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Orli teased. "But that wasn't the only thing that happened in Vegas. Remember, we rode the Manhattan Express roller coaster together? And when you got off you looked like you were about to be sick and you almost barfed on Brad Pitt, who just _happened_ to be there."

"I _almost_ did," Jenn repeated. "So I actually _didn't_." Despite apparent indifference to the memory, she was blushing. "And why was he there anyway? He just _happened_ to be?"

"They were filming _Ocean's Eleven_," Orli reminded her.

"Figures," Jenn muttered and changed the subject. "Hey, remember when we went to that esteemed professor's house for dinner and his youngest daughter put out her mother's 'special occasion napkins' when she was setting the table? And their older girl, who was about eleven, kept hanging all over you, with love in her eyes…" Jenn finished dramatically.

"Oh, shut up," Orli said good-naturedly.

"And that's not all," Jenn continued, determined to embarrass her husband like some of these memories were embarrassing her. "There was that time we went to Wal-Mart, and this whole group of teenage girls recognized you right away and they all started screaming over you. One of them, as I recall, ran off to buy one of those ten-dollar engagement rings and ask you to marry her. Another said she wanted to have a baby with you, and if it was a boy she was going to name it Orlando, after you, and if it was a girl she was going to name it Amy, just because that name means 'love' and she wanted you to always remember her love for you. And a third girl began begging you to love her, saying she was different from all those worshipful drooling fans of yours because she really cared about you as a person, and she wanted to be with you forever, and maybe she couldn't afford to buy you a diamond ring, but she had the love in her heart, worth more than that…"

Orli finally cut in, blushing only slightly. "And then I just shoved _you_ forward and said, sorry kids, I'm engaged."

"And they started _attacking_ me," Jenn finished indignantly, "like it was _my_ fault they were pathetic losers and you liked me more than them. And you never apologized."

"I did too!" Orli contradicted. "Many times. But I will again if that's what you need to hear."

"Nah," Jenn decided. "I know."

And on it went, for hours on end.

The honeymoon passed by in a blur. Every day there was someplace new to visit, different places to shop and take pictures and most of all, make memories. Each night Jenn and Orli watched the sun go down from a different romantic beach, each night reliving their first kiss like there would never be another one. And each night, there were more memories, more remembered times to be shared once again. And each night, there was _them_. And that was what mattered the most.


	7. Chapter 7

_It was dark. That was what she remembered most, the darkness. It was like a cell, a dungeon straight out of the Middle Ages. _

_It was cold, too. It was June, and it was cold. She wondered why he would have bothered to leave the air conditioning on for her, why he cared, why he was wasting so much of it. Why didn't he just turn it down, or even off altogether? He obviously wasn't all that concerned for her welfare. Granted, there was a very modern toilet discreetly hidden behind a wooden door, and sure, there was a relatively soft cot, but the room's sole source of light was what little sunlight beamed down through the bars of the window seven or eight feet above her head. The floors were concrete and dirty. Even she, who had had little experience with basements and cellars, knew the room was underground because she could see the grass growing, some of it poking through the window, if it could even be called a window. She was under no illusions: she was a prisoner here; she would not be the one who made the decisions. Her fate, for the moment at least, was not in her hands._

_The door creaked open. She tensed, afraid. But it was only her captor, come to make sure she was still there, presumably; not that there was any way to escape. She stared up at him, hatred in her gaze. He returned the look, with the same feeling._

_His eyes were so blue. Before she knew him, it was what she liked best about him: those eyes. They were what made him so cute. Clear and sky-blue and serious, they were. But now, the harsh shadows throwing half of his face into sharp relief with the other half remaining in darkness, his eyes didn't look so blue. They looked black and cold, an unwelcoming abyss of loathing._

_He didn't look so cute with those eyes._

_He spoke to her, in a deep, gravelly voice. She wasn't sure what he said, timidly asked him to repeat it. "Are you happy now?" he asked._

_"Why do you care?" she retorted roughly, determined to cover up her fear._

_He smirked and left, the door slamming shut ominously behind him. She collapsed into the corner and cried._

_Nothing happened for an hour or more. She lost all sense of time as she waited to learn what would happen to her. But when the door finally creaked open again, she cringed._

_It was like everything tale of kidnap and captivity she'd ever heard. He'd had someone bring her a plate of food: cold chicken that she nevertheless bolted down, lukewarm water that she gulped thirstily. She waited for something to happen._

_Nothing did. The man who'd brought her food tossed her a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Confused but grateful, she changed out of her ruined wedding dress. _Guess I can always buy another-_, she thought, then stopped herself. Would there _be_ another time? Would she ever see the person she loved, or her best friends, again? _Stop_, she tried to tell herself. _You've only been here a few hours; anything can happen. Your friends care about you; they won't let anything happen to you._ But it was hard not to despair._

_When the door creaked open again, she wanted to run and hide in the little bathroom. She didn't want to see those blue eyes gone dark. What had made them turn so sinister? Why was she here, really? What could he possibly want with her? _

_Where was her soon-to-be husband?_

_The fear was so thick she could almost taste it. It was choking her, making her gasp for air._

_The door opened all the way._

_It wasn't _him

_Someone had found her, somehow; someone was going to rescue her. She should have been happy, should have been laughing with relief. But instead she began to cry in earnest._

Jen woke up with a gasp, blinking in the darkness. She felt sweat running down her face, tasted salty tears in her mouth. It was the old nightmare that had plagued her on and off for a month. She hadn't told anyone; didn't want to bother them. She rarely, if ever, talked about the helpless feelings she'd had when she had been kidnapped by Tobey Maguire. She didn't want to burden anyone with her troubles.

But this time, she had woken her husband.

"Whassamatter?" Orli asked her groggily.

"Nothing," Jen muttered. "Nightmare. I'm fine now."

Orlando Bloom knew his wife wasn't being completely honest, but he shrugged and let it go at that. Jen might think nobody knew she still suffered from when she'd been kidnapped, but all three of her best friends had figured it out; even though they never spoke to each other about it, they all knew, and they knew the others knew too. Orlando remembered how he had been kidnapped, too, and even though it was the stuff of nightmares, he'd been more comfortable, held out hope, and at the end of the day realized that he was sure of what he was doing when he married Jen. It made him appreciate her all the more.

He wished she could see the same thing but knew that on this topic, she was beyond even his reach. He wanted to reach out and stroke her silky cheek, salty with her tears. He wanted to brush away those dried tears. It was the first time since he had proposed that he felt she was closed off from him, that there was a part of her life she didn't want him to be a part of. It hurt. He was worried about her, worried about what had happened to her, what she still felt from it. He wanted to shake her, beg her to talk, if not to him, at least to Michelle. He wanted to enfold her in his arms, let her break down and tell him what was wrong. He wanted to _demand_ to know what was wrong. _Talk to me_, he wanted to cry out, _tell me what's hurting you_!

"What time is it?" he questioned instead, tactfully changing the subject.

Jen, with effort, refocused her eyes and glanced at the bedside clock. "Six in the morning. Sorry I woke you up so early."

"I had to get up in half an hour anyway," he reassured her. "Gotta be on the set early today."

"Why do you have to go right back to filming _Ned Kelly_?" Jen sighed. "We just got back from our honeymoon!"

Orli smiled affectionately down at her. "You'll be a famous star someday soon, with that beautiful voice of yours, and _I_ will be the one begging _you_ to stay home more."

Jen couldn't help smiling. "That's not likely."

Orlando returned the smile. "Just wait."

"Can I come and take pictures again?" Jen begged. She had carried a camera along to the set the past two times she had gone. Even though Michelle was more into photography, Jen wanted to capture Orlando in action and behind the scenes. _Maybe someday I'll be famous for my photography_, she thought amusedly, not serious.

"You know I would love you there, but I don't think they want anyone this time. Nobody told me why," Orli explained apologetically, explaining nothing.

"That's all right, I have a meeting at two anyway," Jen said, disappointed.

"What?" Orli asked, puzzled.

"Oh… nothing. I'm not really supposed to be talking about it yet, until I know for sure what's happening."

"And will that be today?"

"I hope so!" Jen cried.

Orlando scrutinized his wife. She looked nervous, face slightly flushed, hands twisted tightly together in her lap. He wondered why.

Jen felt badly about not being able to tell her husband what was on her mind, but she was too afraid of the rejection she felt sure she was going to face. She hadn't even told Michelle, and she told her best friend _everything_.

Orli shrugged and turned away slightly. "I better go get ready."

"You're not mad, are you?" Jen asked anxiously. "I promise I will tell you everything at dinner tonight, but I don't know what's going to happen yet."

"It's fine," he assured her. "Whatever it is, I wish you luck. I'm sure you'll be fine; you always are."

"Yeah," Jen muttered as he left. "Always fine…" She remembered again the nightmare, and shuddered.

"Well, you don't have any references, really, but I heard the tape you sent in and I was delighted with it. I sent it to my boss. He's a very demanding man, but he's also very intelligent and recognizes something great when he hears it. I think he should find that you have exceptional talent. He informed me that he was running just a bit late today, so we'll have a few minutes to wait, and then he'll give us his decision." The lady smiled warmly at her. She looked to be in her early or mid-thirties. Her short blond hair curled under and gleamed in the light. Perfectly manicured fingernails drummed a polished wooden desk; her business suit had not a speck of dust on it. Jen looked at her nameplate: Barbara. In a pale green pantsuit she had just bought the week before, Jen felt intimidated despite the obvious friendliness emanating from the woman before her. She could barely breathe, she was so nervous. In just a few minutes she was about to find out what would make or break her dreams.

Barbara seemed to notice this and added, "There's a Starbucks downstairs, or if you would like to get something out of the vending machine up here, it might help you to relax a bit. I know it's hard, sweetie, waiting for someone else to decide your future."

Jen smiled weakly. "Thanks." She got up and ordered her favorite from Starbucks: a chocolate brownie Frappucino. She sipped it slowly as she rode the elevator back to the fourth floor. When she returned to Barbara's desk, there was a man standing next to her. Both were smiling.

Jen hardly dared believe that she had been accepted. Maybe they were smiling because they were sadists who were _glad_ to make people unhappy… Her wild imagination raced as she struggled to breathe normally, to show these people she wasn't nervous.

They waited a moment, looking at her expectantly, then the man cleared his throat. Jen glanced at his nametag: John Walters. He began, slightly awkwardly as though he wasn't used to dealing with people much, and certainly not young, pretty women in their mid-twenties, "We receive many tapes every day. Most are disregarded when they are first listened to. Very few make it to the managers and founders of this company. I would like to begin by saying that the fact that I even heard your tape makes it exceptionally high quality with great promise. I can only accept a certain amount of people and we have very high standards for doing so.

"It can take over a year of hard work to make a compact disc of your own, Mrs. Bloom. It's a very demanding job and while few people have the strength of voice to be able to sound good on CD, even fewer have the strength of patience and determination to actually create the CD. I do not wish to take you on- (_here it comes_, Jen thought)- if you are not willing to devote yourself wholeheartedly to making an album. Do you think you have what it will take to produce your own CD?"

"I think I do, sir," Jen answered, breathless, afraid. He couldn't possibly mean what she thought he meant…

"Then I would be delighted to take you on," John Walters announced, creating the last bit of perfection that Jen needed in her life.

Orli was still out when she got home. She wasn't surprised; she didn't expect him until dark, although they were still going out to dinner. Still, she was disappointed. She wanted someone to share her good news with. So she picked up the phone and speed-dialed Michelle.

Michelle was sprawled comfortably on the couch in Josh's arms, contentedly watching a movie, when the phone rang.

"Stupid people," she muttered. "Don't they _know_ better than the interrupt _the_ Sacred Movie Night?" She glared at the phone on the end table as though to make it stop ringing.

When that didn't work, she succumbed to the inevitable and glanced at the Caller ID.

"Jen," she sighed. "Jen, Jen, Jen. I would have thought _you_, at least, would know better than to be calling right now."

"She's probably lonely," Josh reminded his wife. "Orlando's off filming today, from what I hear."

"Yeah, yeah," Michelle muttered, and picked up the phone.

Josh watched her. He had known her for years and had been through many of her mood swings. He loved watching her get irritated because she said and did the funniest things, like glaring at the phone to make it shut up. They were still newlyweds; everyone would tell them they were in the easiest stage of their marriage and they would have many problems down the road. But they'd never gotten into any serious fights. Michelle had a stubborn streak in her but her heart was big and soft and welcoming. Josh knew this as well as he knew every one of her funny little quirks and he loved her for it.

"Jen!" Michelle cried. Josh laughed out loud at the exaggerated delight in her voice. Michelle gave him a look, but looked as though she were trying to smother a giggle too.

"Jen dear," Michelle continued, a sweetness in her voice that Josh had the foresight to recognize as dangerous, "do you realize what night it is?"

Jen wasn't listening. "I GOT HIRED!" she screamed.

Michelle forgot about _the_ Sacred Movie Night. She blinked.

"Umm… that's great, Jen. What?"

"DID YOU NOT HEAR ME? I GOT HIRED!"

Michelle blinked again and pulled the phone a full foot away from her ear, not only for Josh's benefit but also because the loud noise was hurting her ear. She could still hear Jen screaming even when the handset was that far away and was fighting a mad desire to giggle endlessly. Michelle cautiously brought the phone in close to her and placed her mouth an inch from the receiver, to yell, "Stop yelling! We can _both_ hear you just fine. Even with the stupid phone halfway across the room."

"She's only exaggerating slightly!" Josh called from somewhere in the background.

"Now, can you say that again?" Michelle asked, ignoring Josh but laughing silently.

"Oh, all right," Jen muttered, only slightly daunted, determined not to let even Michelle's irritation ruin her happiness. "I was talking to some people about hiring me…"

"I got that part," Michelle said evenly, voice still completely calm. "But, see, I could have sworn you just told me you got hired, when I wasn't even made _aware _that you were applying for any position, and that's what I'm having a little trouble taking in, here." Jen had known Michelle much longer than Josh and knew that she always got hyped over the little things, but rarely over anything of real importance, like, oh, say, this.

"Oh, it is IMPOSSIBLE to talk to you!" Jen cried. "I thought it would be _impossible_ to annoy me today…"

"Alas, but the morning is a complete waste if I have not accomplished at least six impossible things before lunch," Michelle said dramatically. At this, Josh burst out laughing. Michelle gave him a rude look and walked out of the room, _the_ Sacred Movie Night having already been interrupted, anyway (the movie was on pause).

"Okay, do you want to hear this or not?" Jen demanded. "Because if you don't, I could always just call someone else…"

"Oh, all _right_." Michelle sighed, like she was doing Jen some great favor. Then she smiled, even though she knew her friend couldn't see her. "What's the big news?"

"Well, you're always telling me I have such a _wonderful_ voice…" Jen began, clearly trying to milk the suspense, but it wasn't working.

"Unless you're going off in some completely random direction, which I wouldn't put past you, are you trying to tell me you got a deal with a _record company_?" Michelle interrupted, voice going slightly shrill with belief and disbelief at the same time. Belief, because she had always known Jen would make it big if she wanted to; disbelief, because she was having a hard time taking it all in and still couldn't believe Jen hadn't even _hinted_ at what she had been trying to do.

"YES!" Jen screamed.

"Jen, that's _great_!" Michelle cried. "I have _always told you_ that you have a _wonderful_ voice, I _knew_ you could do it if you wanted to!"  
"Gee, thanks," Jen laughed, flattered.

"But," Michelle continued, only deflating Jen's spirits slightly, "I _do_ think you should have told me!"

"I didn't even tell _Orli_!" Jen objected.

At these words Michelle sat down heavily on the nearest object, which happened to be the dog, who yelped in protest and gave Michelle a hurt look before scampering off. "Sorry," she muttered to the dog, then sat down on a table instead. "It's happening," she announced dramatically to Jen.

"What?" Jen cried, alarmed.

"Our _husbands_ are taking priority over ourselves," Michelle declared. "_Orlando_ is more likely to hear your news than I am."

"Oh, get over it," Jen snorted. "I _live_ with Orlando. _You_ were always the first person to hear my news when _we_ lived together."

Michelle laughed despite herself. "Right."

Jen had to smile too.

Michelle abruptly changed the topic. "Hey, so who's writing the songs?"

"Some I was going to _try_ to write, others they're helping with, and I was _hoping_ for a little help from old friends," Jen stated.

"I resent that. I am _not_ old," Michelle declared.

"So you'll help?" Jen said, knowing she would.

"I could _try_," Michelle began.

"That would be enough," Jen interrupted. Then, obviously realizing something, she gasped. "I interrupted _the_ Sacred Movie Night, didn't I? Oh, I'm sooo sorry! It's just that Orlando isn't home, and I wanted somebody to share my good news with…"

"Yes, you _did_, and I _was_ going to yell at you, but that's all right. This is more important," Michelle said, barely able to stifle a laugh.

When Jen hung up the phone, Michelle didn't return to the movie right away. She hesitated as her hand hovered over a pen on the table she was sitting on. Then, making up her mind, she grabbed the pen and ran upstairs, to the guest room, where she and Josh went when they wanted to be alone for a while. It was quiet there, with a good view and a CD player. Michelle put in a CD with fast music, grabbed a few sheets of paper and began to write. The words flowed right off the pen; they were coming almost faster than she could write them down. A pleasant little ditty was ringing in her head; it came with the words.

_Chorus:_

_Don't take my hand_

_If you don't want my heart_

_You need to know what I need_

_Right from the start_

_Baby are you ready_

_To give me a call?_

_Cuz I want your love_

_I want it all_

_You say you love me_

_Well I've heard that before_

_I've had plenty of boys_

_Come knocking at my door_

_I need to know you're different _

_That you won't just leave me_

_I've only got one heart_

_Show me I can give you the key_

She hesitated there. Was it even the kind of song that would flatter Jen's voice? _Oh well_, she thought resignedly. _That's for someone else to decide. I'm just doing the writing_.

Orlando came in twenty minutes late. He looked tired but gamely agreed to having dinner out. Over a candlelit dinner of steak and potatoes, Jen told him her news. His reaction was almost identical to Michelle's.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" he cried.

"I told you this morning," Jen reminded him, "I didn't want to tell anyone unless I got the deal."

"Did you tell _anyone_?" he wondered, thinking of Michelle.

"Nope," Jen responded. "Not even her."

"Bet she was happy," Orli murmured to himself.

Jen heard. "She was."

Orlando grinned and changed the topic. "So how are you getting songs to sing?" he asked.

"Some they're going to provide and sort of edit so it 'flatters' my voice, some I'm going to _attempt_ to write, and I asked Michelle to see what she could come up with…"  
"You didn't think I could come up with anything good?" Orli interjected, pretending to be hurt.

Jen laughed. "You're welcome to try, but I thought you were an actor."

"With 'amazing looks going for me,' right?" Orli joked, quoting something Jen had said on their honeymoon.

"Actually, what I said was, _great _looks," Jen teased.

"Whatever," Orli muttered, grinning despite himself. "I didn't know you liked writing."

"I don't, usually. But I'm going to try, for this," Jen declared.

"With plenty of help, right?"

Jen laughed. "But of course."

Later that night, happily in bed, Jen thought about what she was doing with her life, accepting this job. She _thought_ she was ready for it. That wasn't what was bothering her. She was thinking about her married life… candlelit dinners and dates, children, the sheer joy that comes from being half of a perfect couple… She wasn't really losing any of that, she knew, but she _would_ have to put her life on hold for a while if she was going to fully devote herself to singing. Children would have to wait. She sighed. How did Orlando and Josh, and even Michelle, handle life? They were all famous in their own ways, especially Josh and Orli. Everyone knew who they were.

"Everyone knows who _you_ are too," Orli reminded her.

Jen started. She hadn't realized she'd been talking aloud. "What are you talking about?" she asked, confused.

"All _four_ of us are famous, Jen. When you accepted my proposal, you _became_ famous, in a sense. Remember the _Entertainment Weekly_ story, with us all over the cover?"

"Yeah," Jen sighed dreamily. "That was funny, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was." Jen could _hear_ the smile in Orlando's voice. "You don't have to worry, Jen. I'm _glad_ you got this job. It's something you've always wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes," Jen began, "but…"

"Your life does not have to be put on hold, Jen, just because you have something to devote yourself to. I will always be here. Children can wait. I didn't think we were ready for them anyway. I love you, Jen. I want you to be happy."

Jen felt herself drifting off to sleep. A thousand images flashed through her mind as she listened to the voice of the man she loved. She saw herself, dripping wet in that fountain in Las Vegas, Orli pulling her down with him. _We'll always be together, for better or worse_, she thought in remembrance. She saw Michelle as she was right before her wedding, nervous, fear evident on her face. She heard herself reassuring her; saw Josh's face as Michelle walked down the aisle. She saw herself as she had looked on her own wedding day; saw Orli waiting for her at the end of that long walk. She saw him walking over to her at the party where they had first met. She saw, as though from a distance, the two of them on their first date, with Josh and Michelle; remembered how envious she felt as she watched them chatting easily and wished she could think of something to say to Orlando. And right before she fell asleep, she saw a face, young, very young, with a small amount of fuzz for hair and brilliant hazel eyes that smiled up at her with love and trust.

She didn't have the nightmare that night.


	8. Chapter 8

It was sunny the day the letters started arriving. Jen remembered that distinctly. Orli had been ready to run out the door (he was running late and had to be on the set of _Ned Kelly_, a twenty-minute drive, in an hour, and he was nowhere near ready), and she had been lounging around, thinking about calling Michelle and Josh to see if they wanted to go see a movie with her later. The days were long and lonely, and she needed company in the worst way.

When the mail truck pulled up, Jen thought little of it. She ate lunch and then went out to get it. There were three letters for her, all postmarked on the same day and in identical stationery envelopes. _What on Earth_… she wondered as she opened them.

Her face paled as she read the letters. All three sounded similar. The first one she opened was a postscript and very short, the second was a lengthy letter and the third was another postscript.

"Orli…" she called weakly up the stairs, voice strained. "Do you have a minute?"

Orlando came racing downstairs. "I have ten minutes to make a twenty-minute drive!" he cried frantically. Then he paused for an instant. "Did you just say something? Are you all right? You look pale."

"No, I'm fine," Jen responded, collecting herself. She would tell him later.

But later never came.

_One month later_

"_When_ will it stop raining?" Jen cried dramatically as she burst into the house, dripping wet.

Orlando laughed despite himself. "Carry an umbrella."

Jen looked offended. "I can't carry an umbrella! There's no room in the car."

Orlando snorted. "Use the van, then."

"That's illegal." Jen still looked insulted.

"Really."

"Yup."

"I didn't know that."

"Well, I'm glad I could inform you."

"Thanks ever so. I'm much the wiser now."

"Anytime."

The conversation over, Jen decided to go upstairs and put on some _dry_ clothes. Even the half-minute walk from her red Mustang to the front door resulted in soaking wet hair and very damp clothes. It had been raining relentlessly for the past few days. Flash flood warnings were a guarantee every time anyone turned on the news. Jen was sick of it. Rain meant she couldn't go outside; rain meant she couldn't go swimming; rain meant walking through huge puddles to get anywhere; rain meant humidity and frizzy hair (which was a problem for Jen since she had finally grown her hair out like she'd always wanted to); rain meant loud claps of thunder than scared the dog, and lightning that caused fires (there had been one down the street a few days ago; luckily it hadn't been too bad); rain meant _no beach_. Lately Jen had been very into going to the beach, and even more so since she and Orli had shared their first kiss on the beach. She usually went with Orlando or Michelle, and sometimes all four of them went together. But not often; Orli was kept busy filming _Ned Kelly_, which wouldn't be released until the next year, and Jen was beginning work on her debut album. She had recently gotten a deal with a record company and half her life was consumed with trying to write songs and nagging Michelle to try to write songs and endless visits to the man who had hired her, John Please-Call-Me-John-Not-Mr.-Walters Walters. Josh was taking a break from acting; apparently _Pearl Harbor_ had given him much more publicity than he ever wanted. Michelle, an actress, although not as famous as her husband, was also taking a break and attempting to do some writing. Not writing for Jen, of course. Just for herself, and possibly a publisher.

So none of the quartet had seen much of the beach lately anyway. And with the rain, Jen was really starting to resent it.

She shook her head, irritated, as she rung out her long brown hair and yanked a dry shirt off its hanger, all the while muttering to herself.

After she had changed, Jen went downstairs to the piano she had _insisted_ on having when she and Orli were choosing furniture for their new house. She let her fingers hover over the keys for a moment, then began to play, softly singing the first words that came into her head. She flipped on the tape recorder that also lay on top of the piano, in case the song turned out to be any good.

_There were chocolate colored ponies  
There was air that smelled like rain  
And the stars shone bright in the night sky  
When I first learned you name_

At that moment I felt  
A tingle rising inside of me  
And your name remained in my head  
Like we were meant to be

I hear your name, like a bell  
Ringing ringing in my heart  
I knew since the moment I heard it  
We should be together

But you don't see me  
And you don't seem to need me  
But I know, that someday  
You and I will be  
Together  
Forever

There were chocolate colored ponies  
There was air that smelled like rain  
And the stars shone in the night sky  
When I first learned your name

Jen smiled, pleased, as she rarely was with her writing (no matter how much _some_ people insisted that it was good). She quickly grabbed the pad of paper and pen she kept by the piano (in case she was ever "inspired") and wrote it all down before she had time to forget it.

Jen stared at her writing for a full minute, eyebrows drawn together in a frown. Then she crossed out _chocolate_ in the first and last stanzas and wrote in _silver._ She smiled again, satisfied. The minor change gave the whole thing a more mature edge.

She was running through the song again, more confidently, as she suddenly remembered what she was planning to do that day. She sighed. It wasn't a happy thing, but it had to be done. She pushed her writing aside, picked up the phone, and dialed Michelle.

She wasn't home, luckily. That would make what she had to do easier.

Michelle sat at the computer, keys clicking rapidly as she typed away.

"Get that, Josh?" she called, stopping in the middle of a word. There was no answer. Michelle shrugged and shook her head. She tried to stretch out her hand, but it was a full two feet away from the phone even though she was stretching it as far as she could, so she gave up and refused to answer the phone (that was what machines were for, she reasoned).

"Hi, you've reached Josh and Michelle. We're out, or maybe we don't feel like answering the phone right now-" _isn't that the truth_, Michelle thought wryly- "so leave us a nice message, you know the routine. And hey, make it amusing, if it isn't too much trouble. We like a good laugh." BEEP!

Michelle smiled at that last line and listened to the message. "Make it amusing, if it isn't too much trouble?" came Jen's skeptical voice. "Well, aren't _we_ a bit cocky! You're probably _busy_-" Michelle could practically see Jen smirking on the other end of the line and laughed out loud- "and I'm sure I'm interrupting, but you know Orlando and I are going out of town tomorrow and I have some stuff for you that I need to drop off before we go. So I guess I'll just have to use that lovely little house key you gave me last week, Michelle-" _why would I ever do such a stupid thing as give her a key_, Michelle wondered, amused "-and leave the stuff on the table. Looks like the rain is finally letting up a bit, so let's hope it stays like that long enough for me to drive the block to your house. Yes, I'm driving. I can't really walk in this rain, now can I? Unless you're like your mother, and want to leave me in the rain and get pneumonia and die- anyway, I'm going to leave the stuff on the table. Love you! Talk to you later."

Michelle was still laughing slightly at the end of the message. She remembered all too well the sob story (actually, _Jen_ had laughed through it) about when she, then just entering high school, rode her bike home through the rain and her mother wouldn't stop making dinner long enough to open the garage door for her, and her dad, when he finally came to the rescue, handed her some recycle bins and told her to bring them down to the street, since she was _already_ wet. Jen obviously thought the cruelty ran in the family.

Michelle hit the Save button and closed the document, sighing a bit as she stretched; she had been cramped in the same position for nearly two hours (_where does the time go_? she wondered, both confused and content).

Josh appeared suddenly in the doorway. "Who was on the phone?" he asked.

"Nobody important," Michelle muttered, but grinned. "I'm going upstairs. Oh, by the way- Jen's coming over. She thinks nobody's home since neither of us actually picked up the phone…"

"_I _was in the bathroom," Josh interrupted. "What's _your_ excuse?"

"I didn't want to get up?" Michelle suggested. "Anyway, she has a key, so I guess she'll just let herself in."

"All right," Josh said with a yawn. "I think I'm overdue for a nap."

"Then take one," Michelle recommended.

All of a sudden there came the distinctive sound of a key turning in the lock. Two seconds later the door burst open. Michelle laughed- Jen was soaking wet.

Jen glared at her and proceeded to pull a large, fluffy bath towel out of the humongous waterproof bag she was carrying with her. She did not look all too surprised to see them home. "So," she said conversationally as she rung out her dripping hair, "I hear answering machines come with _phones_ these days."

Josh snickered. "You come prepared for anything, don't you?" he asked, referring to the bath towel.

Jen looked at both of them, laughing, mocking herself. "It had slowed down, but I knew that as soon as I stepped out of the car the rain would start coming down in torrents again. And wasn't I right." It was not a question; sure enough, thick sheets of rain were drenching the streets. "Plus," Jen, whose car of choice (she and Orli had three, not counting the limo Orli used for parties and the like) was her own aforementioned Mustang, added, pointedly ignoring the looks Josh and Michelle were exchanging, "there's no room in the car for an umbrella." She pulled a folder out of her bag and handed it to Michelle, who placed it on the coffee table.

"Take your van, then," Josh suggested automatically.

Jen looked miffed, to say the least. "I can't! That's illegal."

Michelle doubled over in helpless laughter.

Josh left the room, muttering to himself, something that sounded very much like, "Women."

"So where are you going?" Michelle asked.

Jen looked surprised that her best friend hadn't remembered. "Orli and I are going up to New York for a long weekend, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Between her work and keeping up with Josh and _trying_ to have a semblance of a life somewhere in between, Michelle had completely forgotten.

"Anyway, I just wanted to drop this stuff off," Jen continued, pulling a folder stacked with papers out of her bag, which had little ponies on it.

"Nice bag." Michelle snickered.

"Thank you, it was a present for my second birthday. I remember Mommy opening it for me. It was a happy day," Jen added, eyes misting over.

"Why aren't _you_ acting?" Michelle wondered. "Everybody else around here does; you sure could. Hey, I meant to ask. What did you mean when you said on the machine, 'You're probably busy right now'?"

Jen grinned fiendishly. "You already know."

"You are a demented specimen of the human race."

"Yes I am."

"So, have a fun trip," Michelle added in a rare moment of seriousness.

"We will, thanks." The evil smile remained on Jen's face.

"Go to the MTV place."

"Actually, _Orli_ wants to avoid it, but _I _might go on my own," Jen laughed. "He's trying to keep a low profile. I have no idea why. It seems to be working for now, though."

"And it's _your_ duty to get him back into the crowds," Michelle informed her. "Now, get out of my house!" She was laughing.

"I have a key, you know," Jen commented. "You never should have given that to me…"

"You're right, give it back." Michelle made a grab for the key but missed.

Jen, laughing, ducked. Then, suddenly turning serious, she pulled Michelle close and hugged her. "Love ya," she whispered.

Michelle was surprised. "Love you too," she responded as the phone began to ring. "Get that, Josh!" she screamed up the stairs. "We're having a special moment down here!"

Jen laughed, turned and went out the door, locking it behind her as if to remind Michelle that she _did_, after all, have a key of her very own.

Michelle laughed, shook her head and went upstairs to see what Josh was doing. She almost collided with him as he raced down the stairs, phone in hand. "Did she leave yet?" he asked, sounding panicked.

"Yeah, why?" Michelle asked, puzzled. "Who's on the phone?"

"Orli."

Michelle felt the beginnings of alarm. Josh looked worried. "What did he want?"

"He wanted to know if Jen had stopped by here, and when I said she was getting ready to go, he just said, 'Don't let her leave.'"

"WHAT?" Michelle cried. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Think we should find out?" Josh asked.

Michelle wondered idly if Jen had deliberately locked the door behind her so she and Josh would have to unlock it before they could get out, buying Jen more time.

They both ran out into the rain after Jen, who was already climbing into her Mustang. "Shit," they distinctly heard her mutter as she saw them.

Somehow they both caught up to her before she could get in the car. Michelle shoved herself between Jen and the door.

"Orli called, huh?" Jen said, almost casually.

"Wanna explain?" Josh demanded, sounding both annoyed and concerned.

Jen muttered another obscenity. "He wasn't supposed to find that till later." Then, turning her attention to Michelle, she added, "I _explained_ everything in what's in that folder. There's nothing more to say."

"Well, how about if you just tell me anyway," Michelle suggested, "because I haven't actually read it yet. I figured you were helping me with some music or tunes or something, since _you're_ the musical genius, you know, but I guess you're so wrapped up with your _problems_ that that would be asking too much."

That made Jen angry. "That isn't all that's in there." She stepped forward. "Let me get in the car. If you haven't read the letter, you can't possibly understand."

Michelle steeled herself for rage. "No."

"You _don't understand_." Jen's voice sounded almost desperate now.

"I _would_ if you would just _tell_ me," Michelle responded.

"Read the letter," Jen snapped, "and let me get in my car."

"No."

Jen sighed and started to go around the other side, only to discover that Josh was already blocking that door. "You need to explain, Jen," he said gently.

"No, I don't. What else did Orli say?"

"He's coming over."

"Well, this just gets better and better," Jen muttered, annoyed. "I swear I am going to hit one of you if you will not let me get in my own car."

"Go ahead," Josh invited.

He was saved from possible damage as Orli pulled up in his own car. Jen turned to run, but Josh grabbed her arm. She sighed. She couldn't win. "Fine," she muttered. "Fine. I can deal with this…" She tried to twist her arm free but couldn't.

Orli jumped out of the car and ran to them. He grabbed Jen by the shoulders and started shaking her, as much from anger as relief. "You freakin' _idiot_!" he screamed over and over. But he sounded more scared than mad.

"Orli!" she cried, pulling free. "Stop!"

"What the hell did you think you were _doing_?" he demanded, still yelling.

"You read the letter if you're here." Jen's voice was calm. "Can't you figure it out?"

"You think that was a reason to _leave_?"

Jen looked as offended as she could possibly get in such a situation. "I was _not_ planning to _leave_," she stated. "Did you not see the part where I _swore_ I was coming back? I just needed… Orli, I am _not_ going to be responsible for them _dying_. It would be _my_ fault."

"You explained that too; I _know_ what you needed."

"Well, I don't," Michelle interrupted. "Will somebody _please_ explain to us what's going on?" Josh nodded in silent agreement, the genuine puzzlement on his face rivaling Michelle's melodramatic expression.

"Can we go inside, then?" Jen asked, refusing to look at any of them.

"Yeah, we can always use Jen's big fluffy bath towel to dry off," Josh murmured, trying to lighten the tension in the air. When they got inside, Jen handed the towel to him without a word or a smile.

"Okay, so _explain_," Michelle insisted. "And feel free to sit on the sofa, it'll dry."

Jen still seemed to find the deep red carpet a fascinating place to be staring at. Still not saying anything, she grabbed the folder Michelle had left on the coffee table and opened it. Silently, she handed it to Michelle. Michelle's face paled as she read its contents. She noted with a small measure of satisfaction that Jen had put some of Michelle's words to music, as she had promised, since that was something Michelle had no talent for. But that wasn't what caught her eye.

There were multiple month-old, and more recent, envelopes inside, all handwritten and all from one R.L. Cook. Said R.L. Cook did not seem to have gotten over Orli and was trying to scare Jen away by threatening her, Michelle and Josh (whom she had given up on since the "incidence" at the LMNT concert, in which Jen, Orli and Michelle had severely damaged her normally beautiful hair with concession stand junk food). Said threats including kidnapping (although none of the four could really be termed as "kids" anymore), rape and murder (cleverly done, of course). R.L. Cook warned that if Jen didn't leave Orli, she would kill Michelle and Josh, hurt Jen and then steal Orli (which of course would probably never happen). There was also a note to Michelle from Jen, explaining why she felt she had to leave, with many assurances that she would be back, but needed to know certain things she couldn't find out by staying at home. In a flash Michelle understood everything. As usual, her insane best friend was trying to save the world. She knew Rachael was just trying to scare her away, but she couldn't be sure Rachael wouldn't follow through on her threats. And she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she thought her best friends deaths' could have been prevented.

Michelle glanced at Jen. The rain had fallen relentlessly as they all stood outside, and it was difficult to tell whether Jen's face was wet from the rain, or if she was crying. Maybe it was a little of both. "Get it yet?" Jen whispered. She was speaking to Michelle. "I refuse to be responsible for you two _dying_."

Josh, still not understanding, wrestled the letters away from Michelle, who was gripping them tightly without realizing it.

"You were just going to _leave_ us?" Michelle asked quietly.

"I was not going to _leave_," Jen insisted. "I just needed to get away."

"Why?"

"I was _scared_, Michelle, can't you _understand_ that?"

"And just how long were you planning to _stay_ away?" Michelle demanded, ignoring Jen, beginning to get angry.

"Maybe a week or two," Jen said quietly. "I just needed to know what was going to happen, and how well they were tracking me."

Orlando, who had until then been keeping silent, spoke up for the first time. "Why did you never tell me?"

"I tried." Jen's voice was still quiet and reasonable, although the words coming out were not. "The first time I ever got the letters, I tried. But you were running late that day. Remember, you had ten minutes to make a twenty-minute drive?"

Orli winced as the details of that day came back to him fully. "And I stopped to tell you that you looked pale and asked if something was wrong… I should have known."

"I was going to tell you later, but you were exhausted. And the next day I got more letters warning me not to tell anyone about them. They said that if I did they'd hurt you."

Josh finally finished reading everything and spoke. "How would they manage to do anything to us? They were just trying to scare you away."

"How could I be sure they wouldn't follow through?"

"You still should have told us…" Michelle started, then broke off. "Oh wait, never mind, I'm a _fine_ one to talk."

"What does that mean?" Josh asked tensely.

Michelle heaved a sigh and went upstairs. She returned moments later with an envelope gripped tightly in her hand. She looked at Jen and said, "I had explicit orders not to tell anyone, but I guess it doesn't matter now."

Josh grabbed the neatly typed letter. Orli and Jen began reading over his shoulder.

It was more of the same: threats.

But this letter was written by Tobey Maguire.

"How is this possible?" Jen whispered as she read. "At the wedding…"

Michelle nodded grimly. "Keep reading. It didn't really have anything to do with the two of us…"

"It had to do with me," Josh spoke up; he was further along than Jen. "They're trying to use Michelle to hurt me."

Nobody said anything for a full minute, even after everyone had finished reading the letter. Michelle was the first to speak. "I have to admit, I entertained thoughts of going away, too. I needed to know if they were just sending stuff to our house, or if they were really watching us. But in my case it would have been stupid to go away… I guess I shouldn't be yelling at you, Jen."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Josh whispered, for the first time fully realizing the fear and horror Jen and Michelle had been harboring.

"Didn't you read the part where they said they would kill Jen and Orli if I did? I thought that part was pretty much self-explanatory."

"Don't get all sarcastic, Michelle, now _really_ isn't the time."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Jen asked the inevitable question. "So what are we going to do?"

"We're not leaving, any of us." Orli's face was set. "That would just be giving them what they want."

Jen sighed. The spacious living room suddenly seemed very small. She could swear the walls were closing in on her. She was suddenly very dizzy. Without knowing why, she began to fall backwards and found herself unable to regain her balance. From far away she heard Michelle's voice: "Grab her, she's going to fall!" From far away she felt Orlando catch her just in time and carry her over to the sofa. Nice, to be carried like that. From far away, she heard the phone ring. And then she stopped hearing anything as she floated away into a peaceful oblivion.

Ten minutes later (according to Josh), she opened her eyes and blinked several times; the harsh light after the blackness was too intense. The first thing she noticed was three faces peering at her. Even Michelle was looking down at her. When did Michelle ever look _down_ at Jen? She was too short. Michelle didn't look down at anything except the floor. Everything else was taller than her. Jen voiced her concerns.

"Where am I, what happened, and when did Michelle grow so much that she has to look down at me? How long have I been dead?"

Josh, Orli and Michelle all laughed slightly, but their faces were drawn and worried.

Michelle answered Jen's questions. "You're at our house, you passed out, and I have always been monstrously tall; you know this. You've been 'dead,' as you so eloquently word it, for about ten minutes, according to Josh."

"What's wrong?" Jen asked, noticing the concern on their faces.

Michelle hesitated. "You'll pass out again."

"She has a right to know." Josh's voice was soft but firm.

Michelle spoke reluctantly. "We got a phone call."

"From?" Jen prompted, dreading the answer as everything that had just happened came rushing back to her.

Michelle paused a moment before answering, clearly still unsure. She looked at Josh. After years of knowing him both as a friend and lover, she had learned to read his eyes as well as any other part of his body. They spoke to her. _If you don't tell her, I will_, they insisted. _But it should be you_. Michelle sighed and answered the question. "Rachael Leigh Cook."


	9. Chapter 9

Jen felt her initial nervousness grow into full-blown terror as Michelle described the phone call.

Michelle had picked it up even though the Caller ID read, "Unknown Caller."

_"Hello?" she said._

_"Michelle?" a voice questioned._

_"Yes, who is this, please?" Apparently, Michelle found using her best manners on the phone to be an important part of life (this principle, Jen knew, was derived from Michelle's early years, in which she avidly watched Barney)._

_"Hi, Michelle. Do you remember me?"_

_"If I asked who this is, do you think I recognize your voice?" Michelle's voice took on a hard edge. Anyone who started talking like this was never very friendly or well meaning; common sense told her this much._

_There was a smirk in the woman's voice as she answered. "I'm crushed. You forget your old pal Rachael?"_

_"Rachael," Michelle whispered, the name reverberating deep in her bones. Then, gathering herself, she added coolly, "I know quite a few Rachaels. Which one are you?"_

_"You know," the voice insisted. "So, I hear Jen's been getting our letters."_

_Michelle's face paled slightly but her voice didn't shake. "And what exactly do you hope to accomplish by calling us?"_

_"We're sending you a message. We know exactly what you're doing. Give me about ten seconds and I can tell you what you're doing right now, and what just happened."_

_"Go ahead," Michelle invited._

_There was a slight pause before Rachael spoke again. "Jennifer just fainted. Orlando's sitting with her on that nice couch in your living room, which, by the way, is soaking wet because everybody was standing outside in the rain, trying to reason with Jennifer, and then you invited them all to sit down, since 'it'll dry.' Tell her, when she wakes up, it would have been much smarter to run away when she had the chance, instead of running to you. Anyway, Josh is standing by you, looking worried. And you just hit the speakerphone button as I was talking, so everybody could hear. Stop pacing, by the way. It's annoying."_

_Michelle stopped walking around the kitchen abruptly and clenched the phone tightly. "This could be considered stalking," she said tightly._

_Rachael laughed. "Look around," she taunted. "You don't see anybody lurking around outside, do you?"_

_Michelle tensed. "That isn't the only way to spy on us."_

_"Thanks for the idea."_

_Michelle rolled her eyes; Rachael wasn't going to get her with that. "Like you didn't already know."_

_"I'm surprised you haven't hung up yet," Rachael commented. By her tone, she could have been referring to the weather._

_"Why should I?"_

_"I just wanted to let you know something." When Michelle didn't say anything, Rachael continued. "We just might kill you all now. Except for you- Tobey has big plans for you."_

_She had hit home with that last remark. Josh tried to wrestle the phone away from Michelle as Rachael laughed, because of course she knew exactly what was happening. _

_Michelle ducked away from Josh and hissed coldly, "Stay away from us, you-" Several unrepeatable words followed before Michelle hung up._

"We are in serious trouble," Jen commented. Like Rachael, her tone suggested that she might have been referring to the weather.

"No shit," Orli murmured.

"So what are we supposed to do now?" Josh wondered.

Michelle spoke to Jen. "That answers your question, then. They're watching us, all right."

"Yeah." Jen was shaking now.

"Well," Michelle said brightly, out of nowhere. "The rain's stopped. Anyone for a drive?"

The other three looked at her like she was seriously fanatical, which she probably was. It took them a minute to understand that she just wanted to get out of the house, didn't want to dwell on the phone conversation, wanted to get away from whatever Rachael had set up that allowed her to see everything that they were doing.

"Sure," Josh responded slowly, still staring at her. "You may want to change. You're soaking wet."

"So am I," Jen interrupted.

"Well, come upstairs with me!" Michelle cried happily. "You can borrow something!"

"Yay," Jen muttered, no match for Michelle's bouncy enthusiasm. She followed Michelle as she raced up the stairs.

"She's messed up," Orlando stated flatly, watching Michelle go.

"She's in shock and denial," Josh murmured back. "Bad combination. She doesn't want to think about what just happened, or what might happen."

Fifteen minutes later everyone was seated comfortably in Michelle's silver, small but practical Toyota Echo (her own personal car, not Josh's at all, although his generous wife did let him drive it). The rain didn't seem about to fall again anytime soon, but the air was heavy with humidity. The sun, out for the first time in over a week, seemed meek and out of place against the heavy gray storm clouds.

Michelle was happily chattering away from the driver's seat. Jen sat next to her and Josh and Orli consented to sitting in the back. Everybody was just listening to Michelle without saying much, except for the occasional driving directions. Michelle was normally an excellent driver, but she just didn't seem to be thinking straight today.

"Michelle, you missed a stop sign." Jen pointed to it as Michelle blew through an intersection.

"Oh." Michelle looked puzzled. She adjusted her sunglasses to glance out the rearview mirror, then carefully shifted into reverse and backed up.

She stopped at the stop sign, smiled in satisfaction and blew through once again, this time legally. "There," she said, sounding pleased with herself. In jeans and a tiny T-shirt, with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, whipping back in the wind, and those sunglasses perched on her adorable little nose, she looked like a teenager again, and this, coupled with the smug look on her face, made Jen unable to keep a straight face.

Michelle glanced over at her best friend. "What?"

"You," Jen gasped, doubled over with laughter.

Michelle slowed to a stop at a red light, then glanced at Josh and Orli in the backseat. "What?"

They shrugged. Neither of them knew either.

"So, where to?" Jen asked, regaining control of herself.

"Anybody hungry?" Michelle suggested.

"Anybody have a better idea?" Josh responded.

"Nope," Orli contributed.

Michelle pulled to a stop at the next restaurant that came into view, which happened to be Bennigan's. "Good enough," she declared as she parked.

"Michelle, you are just _not_ a good driver," Jen decided as they walked inside. "I mean, you could have _killed_ us back there."

"Nah, that was nothing. You should hear what happened to me during my freshman year of high school… Remember, I got rides from my sister and her friends? Chelsea was driving that day, and she's… um… absent-minded. There was this car in front of us. Chelsea's defense when she came within two seconds of rear-ending it was, as told to us as we laughed over it the next day, she didn't realize the car was going to stop… And then there was that stupid, stupid squirrel that just sat in the middle of the road… That was actually the same day. And the time she drove off when Tinsley was still getting in the car and closing the door…" Michelle kept talking as, inside, they were seated instantly, despite long lines ("Celebrity status _does_ have its perks," Josh had to admit as they followed the waitress). But once they were seated, it was like a switch had been flipped. They couldn't get another word out of her; Michelle appeared lost in thought. The only thing she reacted to was Jen's cell phone ringing.

"Hello?… Yes, of course… No, I may need an extension… I understand. I'm working on it, and I have some help… It's coming along, yes… I'm at a restaurant right now, I can't come in at all today… Yes, of course… Of course not… I know, I'm well aware… Yes, I'm working on it, as I said… All right. Thanks. Have a nice day… 'Bye."

"Who was that?" Michelle mumbled, coming somewhat alive again.

"John." Jen rolled her eyes to demonstrate how she felt about this intrusion.

"John, your boss?" Michelle questioned, looking confused.

"Like there's another," Jen laughed, amused at her friend's dazed look. She'd probably worry over it later, but for now, it was funny.

"What did he want?" Orli questioned, sitting opposite Jen.

"Deadlines." Jen rolled her eyes again. "Reminding me that singing isn't as easy as it looks on T.V."

"Are you about to miss something? You mentioned possibly needing an extension…" Josh was speaking now.

"Probably not. I just haven't been working as much as I'd hoped to lately."

Michelle shifted, almost undetectably, in her seat, knowing Jen was referring to the stress over Rachael. She didn't want to think about it, refused to consider the possibility that they were in danger. The four of them were invincible; had proved it time and time again. She hated thinking something had shattered the bubble of happiness and security she blissfully lived her life in. She didn't know how to deal with it. So she refused to. And she did this by retreating into some far corner of her mind, where not even her three best friends could reach her.

"You want to drive home?" Michelle asked Jen, trying to inject some playful enthusiasm into her voice. It was hard.

"Sure," Jen answered, sensing the artificiality of Michelle's brightness and not wanting to challenge it. She took the keys Michelle offered her and started up the car.

"You put one scratch on my baby and I will have your ass," Michelle threatened, imitating Teensy from _Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood_, as she sat shotgun, sounding a little more like her normal self.

Jen just laughed. "Shouldn't have let me drive," she taunted. She had borrowed a pair of Michelle's jeans and wore a regular T-shirt over it; she couldn't borrow any of Michelle's tiny little ones because they were so… well… tiny and little, just like Michelle. Jen was small, and she was taller than her best friend by several inches. With her neat little sunglasses on and her long hair pushed out of her face, whipping about in the wind, she, unlike Michelle, actually _looked_ like a young woman in her early twenties. She was pretty. Michelle _could_ be pretty, but she was more on the cute side.

Josh and Orlando silently watched them from the backseat, smiling to themselves as these very thoughts came to them. They were lucky to have two such great girls and they knew it without taking them for granted. They hated the danger their wives could be in because of them. Something about Jen made Orli love her even in the middle of a screaming match (not that they'd had any yet, but still, he just _knew_ it intuitively). Something about Michelle made Josh want to hold her and protect her. Something about the way they laughed together made both Orli and Josh want to spend the rest of their lives just watching them be happy together.

Orlando was thinking mostly about how he hadn't been there and had completely let his wife down when she needed him the most. He felt guilty for it. Beyond guilty, really.

Josh was busy worrying about Michelle and hating Tobey Maguire every second of the way.

Michelle was still trying to wrap her mind around everything that had just happened and everything that could happen next.

Jen wasn't thinking about anything. She was busy trying to prove she was a better driver than Michelle. In fact, she was trying so hard that she forgot to watch the little things called stoplights.

"That was _red_, Jen," Michelle pointed out calmly, the first thing she'd ventured to say since they'd first gotten in the car. "_Red_. _Red_, meaning _don't go_. _Red_, meaning you're going to kill us next time you try to do that."

"Oops," Jen muttered, a little concerned but not overly so. She was beginning to realize that there were worse things than death. Although killing her best friends would be bad, she told herself. That would definitely not be good. It wasn't a good idea to bring everyone down with her, just because she was temporarily colorblind.

They didn't go back to Josh and Michelle's; rather, Jen drove straight to hers and Orli's (the "House of Blooms" or "Bloom House," as Jen and Michelle loved calling it). Once there, they all got out of the car and headed up the walkway to the front door. As Jen fumbled around in her purse for the keys, Orli expertly pulled his straight out of his pocket, playfully smirked at Jen and stuck it in the lock. The door swung open just as Jen triumphantly pulled her keys out. "I found them," she announced to no one. When she realized she was the only one still outside, she shook her head, disgruntled, and stepped through the door.

"Why are we here?" Josh wondered idly, not really caring so long as they were all together.

"You have a better idea?" Orlando countered.

"Nah, but is there any reason particular reason why we're here?" Josh repeated.

"No. There's not."

"Good, that clears it up." Josh smiled, satisfied.

Jen shook her head in disgust, catching the last part of the conversation. "Michelle's a bad influence on you, Josh."

"What are you talking about?" Michelle called from the pantry. "I'm a _great_ influence on _everyone_! _And _I never have to search through my purse for five minutes to find my house key!"

"Get out of our pantry!" Jen yelled back, unable to keep a grin off her face.

Michelle, ever obedient, emerged- happily munching a cookie. "I like cookies," she explained between mouthfuls, sounding proud of herself.

Josh smothered a laugh, Orli kept a straight face and Jen, who was dramatically improving with her acting abilities, as Michelle had noticed, barely cracked a smile. Instead she patted her little friend (who was no longer so tall that Jen had to be looking down at her) on the head and said, trying her hardest to sound like a proud mother, "Good girl, Michelle!"

Josh couldn't smother his next laugh.

Michelle looked miffed and a bit hurt. "Well," she started. Words failed her. "Well," she repeated. "Fine then. I'll just leave."

She started to walk out the front door and made it halfway through before turning around with the most puzzled expression Jen had seen in her life seemingly plastered to her face. "Isn't anyone going to stop me?"

"Nah, go ahead. Josh, go with her," Orli said. "Leave Jen and me alone."

"What he said," Jen added, moving closer to her husband and wrapping an arm around him.

Josh shook his head and walked out the door after Michelle.

Jen turned to Orli. "Do you really think they're leaving?"

"That would be asking a bit too much," Orli replied, laughing.

"True." Jen smiled and snuggled up close to Orli. "But for the next few seconds…"

"Yeah," Orli agreed, bringing his mouth to hers.

Michelle banged on the window, making a horrible little face in at them. "Devil," Jen muttered in obvious reference to the other girl.

Josh walked back through the door. "Sorry to, umm… _interrupt_, but Michelle wants to know if you happened to crash into any trees or bushes or something without us noticing?"

"I think you would've noticed," Jen responded dryly. "Why?"

"There's a- noticeable- scratch on the car that wasn't there when we left. Michelle says she's sure of it."

Orli was beginning to look slightly alarmed. "Is the phone about to ring, with Rachael telling us all about…"

He was interrupted by the phone ringing.

Jen glanced at the Caller ID, nervously. "Unknown caller," she read, then sighed. "I hate unknown callers."

"Do you think we should pick it up anyway?" Josh asked, thinking the same thing as Jen: if they didn't, and it _was_ Rachael, she would keep calling, or leave a message on the machine if they didn't pick up, and it was probably better to be able to actually talk to her, if need be.

Jen's hand hovered over the phone, indecisive. Then, out of nowhere, she snatched up the phone and half-yelled into it, "Hello?" She sounded furious and ready for a fight; she was.

"Jennifer?" came the surprised voice of a man. "Is that you? Are you angry? Is this a bad time?"

"Oh, sorry, Mr. Walters," Jen apologized, relieved and slightly embarrassed. She waved Josh and Orli out of the room.

"Please, call me John," Jen's boss invited.

"I'm sorry, John," Jen apologized once again.

"That's all right. I was just calling to see how you're doing, and if you needed that extension. Would it be possible for you to come in on Tuesday around two in the afternoon just to do some work and see where we are?"

"Tuesday, Tuesday," Jen murmured absently as she began flipping through the desktop calendar she kept by the phone in the kitchen. "Tuesday's fine. You said around two?"

"That's right. It would probably be for a couple hours. Is that all right?" John asked, sounding a bit anxious for some indiscernible reason.

"That's fine," Jen repeated. "I don't have anything to do on Tuesday."

"All right. How's the songwriting coming along?"

"Well, it depends. I have _some_ things, but I'm not the writer. I'm just trying to be! My friend says they're good, but she says everything I do is good, and I never believe her anyway. So I suppose we'll just decide on Tuesday, right? Michelle's written some things too, and personally I think they're better than mine, though you'd never get her to admit it. She pretends she doesn't like anything she writes, but she agreed to help me out anyway…" Jen abruptly realized that she was rambling. Relief, mixed with anxiety and murderous suspense, had evidently loosened her tongue. Jen stopped herself and apologized yet again. After John assured her that it was really no problem, that he also tended to ramble and that it had taken him years to stop doing that on business calls, Jen hung up.

No sooner had she then the phone rang again.

Rachael didn't bother with pretenses this time. "Where's Michelle, Jennifer? Have you lost her?" The smirk in her voice was unmistakable.


	10. Chapter 10

Jen spun around, gesturing frantically to Orli, who somehow understood her and started outside at a run, along with Josh. The door opened just as they reached it and Josh nearly flew out, violently knocking someone to the ground in the process.

"Oooooh," Michelle groaned as her head hit the cement. "That's going to leave a mark."

Josh stared at Michelle and extended a hand to help her up as she regained her senses.

"What was _that_ for?" Michelle demanded.

"Sorry," Josh apologized. "Rachael's on the phone- again- and Jen thought they had you. We were a bit worried."

Michelle stood still for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in a frown. Then she uttered the biggest word in her vocabulary, at least when the whole world was spinning in circles and a migraine was coming on: "Oh."

Orli yelled inside the house, "Jen, she's fine! Tell Rachael nice try!"

"Gee, was everyone worried?" Michelle's voice was sarcastic.

Josh stared at her. "I just said we were."

Michelle shrugged and looked past him. "Orli, what do you have in the way of… umm…-" glaring pointedly at Josh "-pain reliever?"

"I _said_ I was sorry," Josh muttered as he followed her inside.

"Yeah, and later I'll apologize for the bitch I know I'm being," Michelle called over her shoulder

Jen sighed, anger and suspicion mixing with relief, and prepared to hang up the phone. "One last thing, Jennifer," Rachael said quickly, sensing this.

Jen couldn't resist. "What?"  
"We're watching." Rachael beat Jen in hanging up.

"Well," Jen muttered, disgruntled. She followed soft voices to the living room, where Michelle was lying down next to Josh and Orli sat across from them.

All three ceased conversation and looked up when she came in.

"What'd she say?" Josh asked, sounding tense and strained.

"Not much, the usual," Jen answered brightly, suddenly understanding why Michelle had become so perky and bubbly after she'd taken a call from Rachael. She was scared, and she didn't want to think about it. "Like Eric from _Boy Meets World_: 'She said what all killers say. She wants to kill us, she wants us to wait right here.'"

Orli stared at her. So did Josh. Michelle just smiled knowingly. "So it's all good, right?" she asked, just for clarification.

"Yes," Jen affirmed. "It's all good."

_Two weeks later_

Jen sighed, feeling a bit sorry for herself. She, Orli, Josh and Michelle had tried hard to readjust to a normal life, meaning that Jen was stuck at home, lonely again, while Orli was still off filming. In a valiant, but failed, attempt to amuse herself, she had tried writing more music. She had met with her boss about a week ago, and he had offered some very useful advice and encouraged her to just try writing short parts of songs, both to develop her skills and to see if other people could co-write. John wanted her to have several of these done, and see if she could bring in a complete song, utilizing whatever outside help she found necessary. Jen, always the independent sort, wanted to do as much as she could by herself, and was determined to work hard. So far the only product of her efforts was one stanza of a not-very-promising song:

_I like purple monkeys_

_And Rachael Leigh Cook sucks_

_O ye of little observance, can't you see_

_I am in love with male ducks_

Jen stared at her writing in dismay ("Where on earth did _this_ come from?" she wondered), then slowly began to laugh as she imagined the expressions of Orli, Josh and Michelle. Particularly Michelle, because knowing Josh and Orli they would say it was worthy of some prestigious award, which it most decidedly was not. Jen's mild laughter rapidly turned to hilarity as she pictured her friends once again.

The phone rang suddenly, echoing loudly through the empty house and completely destroying the moment. Jen sighed and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hi, Jennifer? This is Tobey Maguire… remember me… please don't hang up, I have something important to tell you…"

Jen felt uncontrollable anger flare up. The words just started spilling out of her mouth, and she couldn't seem to stop them coming. "You lied to me, made me trust you and then threatened my best friend. Why should I listen to you?"

"No, it's not…"

Jen hung up and sat back down on the couch, seething. After a few minutes she relaxed and started wondering just what Tobey Maguire had wanted to tell her. She wouldn't have believed him, of course, but all the same she wondered. What could possibly be so important that Tobey, who _must_ know that Jen mistrusted him with all her heart, would be calling and trying to tell her _anything_?

The insistent _ding-dong_ of the doorbell cut its way into her musings, if indeed they could be considered musings. Jen sighed and dragged herself up; reluctant to actually walk across the room to open the door, which at the moment seemed very far away.

Later, she would never forgive herself for not checking who was at the door before she unlocked it and started to open it. She only _started_ to open it, because as soon as it was unlocked a small explosion from the other side could be heard, and the door swung inward so hard it was nearly thrown off its hinges.

"_Hey_!" Jen began indignantly. "That is an expensive door! We do not break the door! No no no!"

Then she stopped as she saw who her company was.

Rachael Leigh Cook.

"I would say I'm surprised," Jen remarked dryly, "but I'm really not. I mean, I'm the first to admit I have some rude friends, but none of them have _ever_ tried to break down my front door."

Rachael smirked. "I didn't know you could actually be sarcastic, Jennifer. I always thought you were just the crazy one whose only talent was that she could sing slightly well."

Jen's face flushed but she refused to rise to the bait. "Because knowing how to piss people off in a major way is oh so much better."

Rachael smiled again. The anger in her eyes looked out of place in her pale, pretty face. "You can't provoke me, so don't try. I'm here to…"

"Have a chat? And maybe a nice cup of tea?" Jen interrupted, ever an optimist.

"Interesting theory, but I'm thinking not."

"Well then," Jen persisted, "do you prefer coffee? I can make coffee just as well as tea, you know."

A flicker of something akin to annoyance actually passed across Rachael's face. Visible for only an instant, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. But when Rachael spoke, her voice was as tightly controlled as ever. "It's time to stop being stupid now, Jennifer. We need to… talk… about some things."

Jen smiled triumphantly. "See, I _knew_ it would involve a chat!"

Rachael wisely ignored her. "You may recall that letter your friend Michelle got." She paused, clearly waiting for a response.

Jen decided to speak. "Which one would that be? The one threatening us all with… what was it again? Oh yeah! Murder, that was it."

"Yes, that one," Rachael continued calmly. "Now, it wasn't actually intended for her."

"Of course not," Jen said amicably. "It had her name, address, and even a 'Hello Michelle' as an opening line. It _wouldn't _be 'intended for her.'"

"It was a warning. Albeit an indirect warning," Rachael added, looking surprised, as if this particular fact had just occurred to her. "It wasn't for her. It was supposed to give _you_ a hint, and make you worry about her, so everyone would stop worrying about you."

"That was nice of you," Jen commented dryly, refusing to give in to the fear promoted by the wild, insistent jackhammering of her heart. "I mean, technically you failed, what with all those letters you sent _me_, too, but it was very thoughtful."

Rachael smiled. "And yet, you're here all alone. Maybe that's because Josh cares about Michelle more. Maybe that's because Orlando would rather be living his life. Maybe they're all sick of worrying about you like they have been for months."

Jen's heart constricted. "You won't get me like that," she spat. "I know how my friends feel about me." Defiance held her upright, anger made her able to look Rachael in the eye and stare her down.

Rachael took a step closer. Somehow it made her seem three feet taller and twice as threatening. "But they're not here right now, are they?" she hissed.

Jen fought off something like panic. "Your powers of observation will never cease to amaze me," she deadpanned.

Rachael smirked again, the triumphant smirk of someone who knows she's won, but whose opposition hasn't given it yet. "You look a bit nervous," she observed.

"Yes, well, that would be one of those nasty side effects of nervousness," Jen remarked, sounding more regretful than anything else. More in control, her voice barely shook and her face didn't betray her growing terror.

Rachael's smirk remained frozen on her face. "When did you suddenly become all sarcastic? And do you really think you can win this fight?"

"I've always been sarcastic," Jen answered dryly. "But, while we're at it, I don't believe we were ever properly introduced." She stuck out her hand. "Hi, I'm Jen."

Rachael just stared. Then, suddenly, she reached out her hand to forcibly drag Jen out of the house, but foreseeing this, Jen quickly dropped her hand, and in the same instant reached subtly into her purse, sitting on the end table next to her, and called Michelle. She would figure it out, and drag Josh over with her, so neither of them would let any danger come to the other. Jen hated thinking she needed rescuing, but this was looking bad.

Then it got worse.

Rachael reached into her own purse and pulled out a cute little handgun. Seeing Jen's eyes widen in surprise, she smiled in satisfaction and said, biting off the words, "I'm going to be completely honest with you, Jennifer, and it's going to take thirty seconds out of my life, and then you are going to come with me."

"Why would I do that?" Jen interrupted, talking loudly to muffle the sound of Josh, who had just picked up the phone.

"See, I need Orlando. I'm not going to tell you why-"

"And you said you were going to tell me everything." Jen resisted a mad desire to add, "Liar, liar, pants on fire."

Rachael continued as though there had been no interruption. "So the best way to get him, obviously, is through you. Now, about Michelle-"

Jen decided not to interrupt this time, anxious to hear what Rachael was about to say.

"I don't need her. I would love nothing more than to get my hands on her-"

Jen's next comment popped out of her mouth without her consenting to it. "Thank you for that lovely image, I just went to a very dark mental place."

Rachael continued to ignore her. "But she's more trouble than she's worth."

"And I'm not?" Jen demanded, outraged.

"You're worth more in this case."

"Oh," Jen said, mollified. Then, "Wait…"

"I already know you remember the letter from Tobey; I asked you about it before. I suspect he tried to get in touch with you recently, maybe even right before I showed up, and I'm sure you hung up on him if he tried to call you. Good for you, that makes this much easier."

"I don't get it," Jen said, hating to admit to her confusion.

"Don't you? Didn't you ever notice the letters from me to you were handwritten, and the one from Tobey to Michelle was typed?"

"I noticed, but I didn't think anything of it," Jen responded, indifferent. Then, "Oh…"

"Took you long enough," Rachael snapped, annoyed. "That was just to draw attention away from you, but I had to warn you anyway, to see if I could get you to go away on your own. But when that didn't work I tried sending something to Michelle, too, just to make her worried, and when _your _secret came out, so did hers, so you three were just as worried about her, which meant that they wouldn't feel like they needed to constantly watch over _you_, which meant I could catch you on your own. Are you following this?" Rachael added thoughtfully.

"I think I am, but I must admit I don't see where it's going."

"It's like this, Jennifer," Rachael said impatiently. "The best way to get to Orlando is through you, which is why you need to come with me."

"And if I refuse, which, given the circumstances, I am likely to do?"

"Well, see, that's where this cute little handgun comes in."  
"So just kill me," Jen suggested, hoping Rachael wouldn't take her up on the suggestion.

Rachael shook her head. "That wouldn't work." Her anger suddenly flared up. "Do you think I'm that stupid, Jennifer? I _saw_ you go for your cell phone; I _heard_ Josh answer it too; I _know_ what you're thinking, that he and Michelle are on their way over. So," she finished, "it's your choice. I don't need either of them, just you. Are you following this, too?"

Jen swallowed. "So if they show up, and we're still here, you'll just kill them."

"Exactly." Rachael smiled coldly. "So what's it going to be?"

"You _know_," Jen whispered, voice shaking. "That's _cruel_."

"Well, we'd better be going," Rachael said brightly, rather as though she had suggested a picnic in the park and was anxious to be off.

Jen glared at her in pure unadulterated hatred.

Rachael smiled cheerfully. "There's really no need for that look, Jennifer. It's only temporary, after all. You'll be home as soon as your husband comes after you." Her voice hardened. "Now come _on_ already."

"You won't win. Maybe this part, yes, but you'll _lose_ in the end," Jen spat heatedly, and walked out the door, head held high but with a quiet sigh of defeat.

When Josh read the Caller ID, picked up the phone and got no answer from Jen, he knew something was wrong. Michelle was even quicker to pick up on it. Josh strode over to the foot of the stairs, getting ready to call her downstairs, but before he opened his mouth she came flying down, hastily yanking her denim jacket on over her green halter top. "What's wrong?" she asked, sounding frantic.

Josh stared, speechless. "How the hell did _you_ know?"

"So something _is_ wrong." It was not a question.

"Possibly," Josh admitted.

"So are we going over there?"

"Of course… we can take my car; it's already out in the driveway."

Orli wasn't needed on the set at the moment, so, tired from a week of rushing around with virtually no sleep, he tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn as he headed for a soft, velvety couch and promptly fell asleep.

_Orli padded quietly into the kitchen, the bunny slippers (a birthday gift from Jen) on his feet making no sound as they slid lightly across the tile floor. It was early morning, strange, Orli reflected, because Jen was not a morning person. Yet there she was, making tea in the kitchen, just the way he liked it. She hadn't seen him yet, and he hated to say anything to ruin the moment. He watched her silently for a minute before she glanced up. She didn't look surprised to see him; rather, she smiled peacefully. The sunlight streaming through the window illuminated her reddish-brown hair. She looked so young and vulnerable with her sweet face devoid of the makeup that she always wore when she wanted to look more sophisticated._

_"Hey," she greeted him with a soft grin, the first to break the silence that hung between them._

_"Hey, yourself," Orli responded. "What are you doing up so early?"_

_"Shh," Jen cautioned. "No questions. You just have to wait, and learn."_

_"What-" Orli began, but Jen held a finger to her lips. Then, deliberately, she poured hot water into a mug and offered it to him with another smile, snapping the tension. Orli took the cup gratefully, shivering. Late November in New York made everything cold, especially before the sun rose. Orli sipped the tea, smiling as the hot liquid trickled down his throat. Then he frowned suddenly, looking at Jen, who had her back turned to him. Her hair was suddenly black. Alarm bells began clanging in Orli's head as he grabbed the woman who was suddenly not Jen by the shoulder and spun her roughly around._

_He was looking Rachael Leigh Cook full in the face._

_She smirked, that infamous smirk she had, as she spoke, but not in her own voice. It was frightening to hear the voice of his own beloved Jen coming from the mouth of his archenemy. "Don't you understand, Orlando?" Jen's voice, when Rachael used it, was cold and clipped, devoid of the warmth and laughter it normally held._

_"No," he confessed, growing angry even as he admitted it. "Why are you here, and where's Jen?"_

_"No questions, Orlando," Rachael reminded him mockingly. "I give information. You don't ask questions."_

_"Well, then tell me!" Orli yelled, frustrated._

_"Patience is a virtue," Rachael laughed. Orli's anger reached fever pitch, and with a cry of rage he reached for her. Rachael nimbly jumped back, out of his reach, laughing. He lunged for her a second time, quick enough this time that her head hit the corner of a wooden cabinet. A trickle of blood flowed out. Pain twisted her features for an instant, and then her eyes closed peacefully. Orli watched, and suddenly, he realized he was staring at Jen again, a small but steady stream of blood in the same place as it had been on Rachael. Jen, too, had her eyes closed, seemingly unaware of any pain._

_Orli gasped, and the sound brought Jen back to life. Her eyes fluttered open, and as they did she became aware of the throbbing in her head and grimaced, but she spoke anyway. "Don't come after me." Jen rarely issued harsh commands, except in play. But this- this was an order._

_Orli didn't move a muscle, except to croak, "What?"_

_"You can't come after me," she repeated. "As long as you don't come after me, I'll be fine. You have to believe that, Orli. It isn't me they want; they'll wait for you to show up, and if you don't, I'll be safe." Her face changed suddenly, horror spreading across her features. "Promise me! Promise!" she cried with unguarded panic. "Promise!"_

_"I can't," Orli cried, voice thick with anguish. "Jen… what's happening?"_

_"The dream is ending," she explained. "In a moment you'll wake up… You have to promise me this one thing!"_

_"No…"_

_"_Please_, Orli!"_

_"I can't…"_

He woke up, very suddenly, still hearing Jen crying, "Promise me!"

When they got to Jen's, the house looked very empty. The only sign of life was a car pulling out of the driveway- one that wasn't Jen's or Orli's.

Michelle made her decision very fast. "Follow them," she ordered. "She has to have seen us, but she can't do anything about it, not until she gets wherever she's trying to go. You need to figure out where that is."

"What about you?" Josh demanded, foreseeing the inevitable.

"I'm staying," she said flatly. "If anything happens, there'll be someone here to explain everything to Orli. And I'm going to see if they left anything behind. Call me on my cell phone in a half hour. I'll leave it on. And if I don't answer, call our house and Jen's. Leave your cell phone on too, in case I need to call you."

"I am not leaving you here!"

"Oh, yes you are!"

"No! What if something happens?"

"Then I will kill whoever is responsible, whether I have a rock, a pistol or a piece of cooked spaghetti," Michelle responded. "Damnit, Josh, go! You'll lose them! Stop the car, let me out, and GO!" she roared.

Josh bit his lip. "I'm calling you soon."

"Wait awhile, and, actually… call the house first; if someone in there hears my cell they'll know I'm there. Not," she added hastily, "that I'm expecting anyone to be there."

He leaned over to kiss her. "Love you."

"Love you more than life itself," she responded. "Be careful." And with that, she grabbed her purse, complete with Jen's house key, and raced up the walkway as Josh tore off in hot pursuit of Rachael's car.

Orli groaned once, then forced himself to get off the couch. As soon as he sat up, the full memory of the dream came roaring back to him.

Orlando was a practical sort. He didn't believe in the interpretation of dreams. He had no reason to think anything was wrong, yet an acute terror seemed to be growing inside him. "Fine," he muttered to himself, annoyed. "I'll just call home to make sure Jen's all right." He whipped out his cell and dialed.

When the machine picked up, he hung up and phoned Josh and Michelle's house. He was most disconcerted to find that there was no answer there either. "Then they just went to see a movie or went out to eat together," he suggested to himself, and called Jen's cell.

This was getting rather routine, and equally comical, in a morbid, nervous sort of way. Jen's phone wasn't on, so he called Josh's cell, but Josh didn't pick up. Orli was truly beginning to panic as he dialed Michelle's cell, his last hope. "Pick up, pick up!" he whispered urgently. His heart sank after three rings.

In the middle of the fourth ring, Michelle picked up. "Orli, what's wrong?" she hissed. "This is a bad time!"

"I don't know," he tried to explain. "I just have this bad feeling, that something's wrong with Jen, and I tried calling everyone, and nobody answered. Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," Michelle lied. "Orli- when's the soonest you can get home?"

"Something _is_ wrong," he said urgently. "_Tell_ me, Michelle!"

"You have no reason to think that."

"You're giving me a real good one right now!"

"When's the soonest you can get off?" Michelle repeated.

"I'm coming home now," he responded. "Where are you?"

"Your house. Orli- everything's fine, even though I know you don't believe me. Just hurry, okay?"

"That's so reassuring, Michelle. _Why_ can't you just _tell_ me what's going on?"

"I can't. Please, Orli," she pleaded, "_trust_ me."

"Fine," Orli sighed. Nobody could hold out against Michelle's stubbornness. "I know you're lying, but fine."

Michelle sighed in relief as she hung up the phone. Orli was on his way; she wouldn't be alone for long… The dark house was intimidating when she was alone and scared. Hardly daring to breathe, after a quick search of the house, revealing nothing, she crouched by a table beside the door, back against the wall.

After a few minutes, the door creaked open slowly. Michelle sunk even further down out of instinct, even though she was sure it was Orli. He had made that trip pretty fast, though… Oh well, Michelle reasoned, he had probably sped all the way home. Of course he had known she was lying; she couldn't have come up with a reason why he needed to come home if everything were fine. Still, she hadn't wanted him to panic and do something stupid, so she had tried to reassure him.

A man walked into the front hallway. "Jen?" he called softly. Then, more loudly, "Jen?"

He waited a moment, then chuckled softly. "Guess she's not here, then," he remarked to himself. His accent, perfectly British a moment before, was suddenly pure American, and Michelle reeled back in silent horror. "Good; then Rachael did her job well. Now, the other three… what did she say about them?" and Michelle found herself leaning slightly forward to hear better, even though the man was not talking at all softly anymore. "Let's see, let's see…" He thought for a moment, and Michelle was beginning to believe he was not going to share his information aloud, when he suddenly continued. "The other two… Josh and… what was it? Michael? Hmm… are they gay? Well anyway, Rachael doesn't care about them. If you have to take one of them, then make sure you get the other, that's what she said. Don't get one without the other, or else the other will go off looking for the one with that third guy, who's supposed to be going after Jennifer. What was _his_ name? Florida? Well, something like that. Anyway, he's supposed to come after Jennifer; she's supposed to be a hostage or something, and the other two are supposed to stay out of the way, I guess. Well, I'll just leave this note on the table for Mr. Florida to see when he gets home…" He stopped suddenly, and then yelped, in a suspiciously high-pitched voice, "Michelle!"

Michelle jumped, then winced as she made a soft, but audible noise. "That's her name, Michelle! I guess they're not gay… That's a shame. Well, Rachael said not to stay longer than I have to, so I guess I should be going… as soon as I leave this note…" He sauntered over to the end table that Michelle was crouched by; she swiftly slid under it, covered by the long tablecloth over it that reached to the floor. The man who was not Orli banged the note down, with a noise that made Michelle flinch in pain at the resounding clash.

But then, in cold horror, Michelle heard the sound of the door opening again and thought the _real_ Orli had to be home. For the first time in her life, she wished she were wrong.

She wasn't.

Orli all but sprinted through the door, yelling, "Michelle? Where are you? Michelle!"

The other man realized too late that he was not alone, and spun around snarling to face Orli. "So Michelle's supposed to be here," he said slowly. "And now, thanks to you, I'm going to tear the house apart looking for her."

Orli's initial reaction was confusion, but he quickly overcame that with a string of obscenities. The man blinked in surprise. "And you must be Florida!" he cried delightedly, once Orli had finished talking. "Then we can forget about Michelle and cut right to the chase."

Michelle bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, but kept silent. She would interfere if she had to, but for now she knew she would be most helpful just listening.

"What do you want?" Orli demanded, sounding half weary and half furious.

"_I_ don't want anything," the man said, then made a sort of mocking half-bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Mark. I am the very important person who is going to completely change your world."

Orli stared at him blankly, not comprehending. Then it clicked.

"Where's Jen, exactly?" he demanded tensely.

"No, I'm sorry, but you don't get to ask questions," Mark sneered. "I ask the questions, you give the answers, and on occasion I gave information- if you're good."

Orli ignored the taunt in the last three words with an admirable retention of dignity.

Mark continued talking. "You mentioned Michelle, so I'm thinking she must be here, but she can wait. It isn't her that Rachael wants. And Rachael tends to get what she wants, or things tend to get thrown. Last time you four managed to get away from her she threw seven kinds of tantrums. Destroyed my very best television set," he added blandly. "Do you know how much those cost? It had a VCR and DVD player! So anyway, I really would like it if I managed to make Rachael happy. I just bought a new TV and I don't want her to break it this time."

Orli let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "So this is why you're working for Rachael? Because she messed up your last television set?"

While Mark seethed about the TV, Orli jumped at him. "Hey!" Mark yelped, then quickly recovered himself and swung back a ham-sized fist.

Michelle, realizing it was a good time to show herself, leaped out from under the table and grabbed his arm, knocking him off-balance and causing him to fall to the floor, not without a great deal of noise. He was a good deal bigger and stronger than she was, but even he couldn't swing his arm out with a young woman sitting on it.

"Orli!" Michelle cried. "See, this is the gist of what's wrong."

"I figured," he responded through gritted teeth. "Do you have something in mind to do now, or are you just going to sit on this guy's arm indefinitely?"

"The second one," she answered, "unless _you_ have some brilliant idea."

Jen sat in the back of the car and discovered very quickly that she wasn't going to be able to make a nice clean getaway at a red light. Rachael had enough foresight to put the child safety lock on the back doors, which meant only Rachael would be able to open them, from the outside. There was also a big, scary-looking man sitting right by Jen and looking as though he was just itching for an excuse to kill.

That made Jen nervous.

So she tried making conversation with Rachael, who for the first time was striking her as the lesser of two evils.

"So, where exactly are we planning to go?" Jen wondered, curious.

"We're going to the place I'm driving to," Rachael snapped. "Don't ask questions."

"You know, you make nice conversation _really_ difficult," Jen commented, mildly indignant. "It's not like you can't just tell me where we're going. I'm going to find out anyway, sooner or later."

"You'll find out later," Rachael half-yelled.

"Geez, and I thought _Michelle_ got mad easily," Jen muttered. Undaunted, she tried again. "So I really don't understand this thing with Tobey. Is he with you, or not?"

Rachael groaned. "Obviously, you're not going to shut up, so to put it simply, no."

"Well, now I'm just more confused, so could you be a little _less_ simple?"

Rachael sounded beyond annoyed now. "He _was_, to begin with, but then he felt bad at his part in the whole thing when I unwisely gave him the job of getting to you.

"Unfortunately, I've known for a long time that someone on my side of this whole operation agrees with him, but I have no idea who that is. And I haven't been able to get rid of anyone, because at the moment I need everyone I can get. Anyway, everyone who works for me has to know exactly what I'm planning, or they're bound to mess something up. So whoever sides with Tobey knows everything I'm about to do, and I think he- possibly she- told Tobey what I was planning to do with you. Sending the letter to Michelle worked because I didn't tell anyone else about that, so Tobey wasn't able to warn her, or any of you, beforehand. But later, I had to tell everyone that I used Tobey as a decoy, if you will, and that's why he tried to get in touch with you. I didn't tell anyone that I had typed the letter because I couldn't imitate his handwriting, only that I had pretended to be him. So he had no real reason to panic, probably thinking you saw right through my idea, until I told everyone what I was going to do next. He knew what I was planning, and he really did know you wouldn't believe him. That hurt him- he liked you, Jen. That's why he decided to turn against me and try to earn back your trust."

Jen was silent a moment, digesting all this. Then she remarked, mostly to herself, "At the wedding, when Tobey came up to me, I wasn't sure I could trust him. But Michelle believed I could. She was not happy with herself when she thought she'd been wrong about his being trustworthy. But she wasn't wrong. I felt the same way- I couldn't believe he'd tricked me, couldn't believe I'd been stupid enough to trust him after everything he did. But I wasn't wrong, either."

Rachael sighed- it wouldn't be the last time Jen caused this reaction in her. "No, you weren't wrong. But you believed you were, so I did my job well."

Jen sighed, too, from all the panic and fear and relief at having been right about something so important all mixed together, but she said nothing more.

The conversation over, Jen gazed out the window. It was nice outside, a bit chilly but not yet bitter winter. At the moment, though, the scenery wasn't much, considering they were on the highway. Jen was sure they must be breaking speed limits and wondered why Rachael would want to attract attention to herself. She turned around and gazed absently through the back window, just to give herself something different to look at.

She thought she recognized the car behind them, but didn't think much of it until she had stared at it for a while and finally managed to get a good view of the person behind the wheel.

It was Josh.

_Ah, Jen thought. So that's why Rachael's speeding._

Jen was proud of herself for managing to keep her friends alive while still alerting them to danger, but now here was Josh, following right behind her. She knew she should be relieved, not being alone anymore, but instead she was terrified that if Josh could keep up with Rachael- a feat that could well get him killed, the way the other woman was driving- she would kill him when they arrived at- at wherever Rachael was headed.

"Rachael," Jen started, turning around. "Is it too late to suggest that we call a truce?"

"No, I'm busy driving," Rachael responded. "Oh, and that reminds me. The easiest way to get rid of your friend back there might be to get pulled over, if I can manage it. So what I need you to do is remember this little gun, which, by the way, my friend has now. If and when you feel the urge to open your mouth and tell the officer that you are an unwilling passenger in my car, all you need to do is remember the little gun. Because, understand this, if you dare open your mouth and tell the officer what I'm trying to do here, I'll have my friend kill him, you, and later, your other friends. Except Orlando," she added as an afterthought, "because I still need him. So just remember that. The story is, since everyone knows we don't exactly get along, we've called a agreement, and since none of your thirty thousand cars seemed to be working right, I generously came over and picked you up, and we're off to my private cabin just to spend a couple days talking about our problems, understanding each other and just becoming better friends, because you've decided that you've been wrong all along about me, that Tobey is really the enemy."

"Hypothetically speaking," Jen interjected. "Should I tell the officer we're really lesbians too?"

"What does _that_ mean?" Rachael demanded, swinging around in her seat.

"It means, watch the road," Jen answered sweetly.

Rachael turned around and slammed down on the gas, even harder than before. "Now what did you just say?"

"You sure have spent a lot of time dreaming up this theory. I didn't even know you were really going to try to get pulled over. Besides, the idea of us spending a few days alone together just doesn't sound quite right," Jen explained patiently, rather as though she were talking to a two-year-old. "I mean really, since we need to 'understand each other and become friends,' tell me, what exactly do you do with all that spare time you seem to have?"

Rachael turned back briefly, giving Jen an evil glare. "I spend it all coming after you and plotting slow, painful deaths for your friends."

Jen stared. "Okay, now could you maybe stop saying that? It's starting to get a bit… unnerving."

Rachael laughed. "Good."

"You know, Rachael," Jen began, "I really think we got started on the wrong foot."

"If this is about calling a truce again…" Rachael interrupted, letting the words hang in the air.

"No, it's not," Jen said quickly. "I was just thinking aloud. I just can't figure out how your being madly in love with my husband came to this."

Rachael sighed. "You're not even worth answering."

"Aren't I?" Jen questioned.

"No, you're not."

"Well, thank you oh so much."

Rachael sounded exasperated. "Jen, if you hadn't mixed in with the wrong crowd, I would've liked you. If you hadn't crossed me the wrong way, I think we could have been friends. But you did, and that's why everything came to this."

Jen just stared, rendered speechless.

The phone rang three times, but Josh was caught up in a wild chase on the highway and had no time or free hands to answer it. He only hoped it wasn't Michelle or Orli. He already knew it wasn't Jen, because he was quite sure she didn't have her cell phone with her, and even if she had, she wouldn't have been able to call him.

Josh swore in frustration. It was getting harder and harder to keep up with Rachael, who was going far faster than the speed limit permitted, deliberately, he was sure, to shake him off. She had to have seen him. The only good thing about that was that Jen had probably seen him as well. He hoped she could hold out long enough for him to get her some help. He knew she was strong enough.

He also knew Rachael had a gun.

He had no idea how he knew, but since ESP seemed to be visiting everyone in the group, he figured it was his turn. That scared him, thinking Rachael had the means and the will to kill Jen. He promised himself he would do everything in his power to protect her, but at the moment he had no idea how to help her when he was doing all he could just to keep up with her.

Through the tinted glass, he saw Jen turn around, and then he saw Rachael whirl around angrily, as if Jen had said something upsetting to her. Then Rachael turned around again and hit the gas pedal even harder. Josh swore once more and sped up to match her speed. He couldn't, at any and all costs, afford to lose them. Jen's life might depend on it.

Josh nearly forgot to breathe, thinking about that one. He didn't like taking risks with the people he loved and cared for, especially not one of his best friends, who also happened to be another best friend's wife. He could never trust himself to do the right thing, and he always blamed himself if anything went wrong.

At last Rachael existed off the highway, onto a much slower road that looked as though it would soon lead to someplace very rural. It was easier to keep up with Rachael then. Josh smiled grimly and slowed down as Rachael did likewise. He saw her look back at him, eyes wide with anger, annoyance and something close to alarm.

He made a very rude gesture at her.

Jen, who was also turned around, saw him and tried to stifle her laugh. But somehow, Josh read the worry in her eyes. She didn't want saving; she was just as afraid of being responsible for Josh's life as he was for hers.

That was touching.

Unfortunately, Josh had to shake it off for the moment and keep driving. After another half hour, Rachael turned onto a secluded lane with a large, but old, house and a barn- it had quite obviously been a farm perhaps a century ago, but time had taken its toll on the place. The shutters in the loft of the barn were rotting away, sagging with the heavy burden of their long years. The red paint on the once-bright barn was peeling away in large strips, and the house itself looked bare and empty, partially covered under a thick layer of dust in spots where the wind and rain never reached, as though nobody had inhabited it for many years.

Rachael led Jen out of the car and into the house. Josh caught a glint of metal as he saw the gun he'd known she had, and he held his breath, afraid to breathe. At the moment, he and his car were hidden amidst a wild tangle of untended trees and bushes, but that couldn't last long. Rachael had known he was following. So Josh dug around in his car until he came up with a pad of paper and a pen. He quickly jotted down the address, surprised that there was one for this ancient dwelling. Then he located his cell phone and dialed Michelle, realizing far too late that he'd completely forgotten to call her.

Michelle's cell phone rang suddenly, as Mark swore and threatened Orli and her. She gave him a rude look, then stared blankly at her cell for a moment before picking it up, apologetically explaining to Orli at the same time, "It might be Josh; he was supposed to call about an hour ago."

Orli listened; the conversation was brief. It was indeed Josh, who, from what Orli could tell, apologized profusely for not calling sooner. Michelle reluctantly mentioned Mark when Josh heard him screaming in the background; Josh in turn told her hesitantly of where he was, where Jen was, and that Rachael had a gun, but seemed not to want to use it on Jen. Then suddenly, Michelle cried, "Josh? Josh!" She hung up the phone, glancing at Orli in frustration. "I lost him! The phone went dead or something." She tried calling him back, but it wouldn't ring at all.

When she looked up, her fear and worry were reflected in the twin pools of Orli's dark eyes. He tried to smile, but couldn't. Instead he broke her gaze and looked down at Mark. "So what are we supposed to do with him?" he asked, half-yelling over the other man's ranting.

Michelle shook her head, baffled. "And more importantly… what about Josh and Jen?"

Michelle was understanding enough about Josh's having called so late. He'd been busy gunning down Rachael on the highway, in a manner of speaking. However, she was not altogether pleased that he had no idea how to get back home, or that Rachael had a gun. Josh, in turn, wasn't too thrilled with the idea of some man named Mark in Orli's front room, possibly capable of killing both of them with his bare hands, from the sound of his voice and the angry threats Josh could hear.

Josh was in the middle of telling Michelle he wasn't sure exactly which way he had come, or even in which general direction home was, when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around quickly to find a large, burly man standing over him. Before Josh had time to say another word, the man yanked the cell phone out of his hand and cut Michelle off. Then, smirking, he turned the cell off and pocketed it, slowly and deliberately.

Josh heard another noise behind him and turned in the other direction again. This time it was Rachael, Jen in front of her. Rachael, Josh was not naïve enough to miss, had her little metal gun out and looked very ready to use it.

Josh opened his mouth before she did. "So just kill me, then." Upon reflection, some time later, he found no memory of giving the words permission to leave the tip of his tongue, nor did he have any idea why he had suggested it.

Rachael sighed. "I would love to, but I have a better idea. We're going to call this one a draw, Josh. You leave and forget you were here. Don't worry, I've already sent someone to bring Orlando back to get Jen. I don't want you here when he arrives. So just… leave, and nothing bad will happen. How's that?"

Josh levelly met her gaze. "And if I don't?"

"Let me put it this way," Rachael answered coolly, slowly and carefully enunciating each word. "I don't think your friend Orlando would appreciate it if he thought you were responsible for Jen's death when I would have just let her go otherwise."

"She wouldn't kill me," Jen interjected quickly. "She had a million and one opportunities before, and she said she had better ideas." Jen groaned inwardly as the words slipped out. She should have just let Josh go on thinking that Rachael would actually use the gun on her, if it would keep him safe.

Rachael sounded utterly infuriated. "I _would_ kill you, Jennifer. I needed to get you here first, so Orlando would follow you. But since he'll be on his way anyway, it doesn't matter now."

"So why not just keep Josh here?" Jen wondered; though she would really prefer that Rachael didn't take the suggestion seriously, curiousity was winning out over common sense.

"Because then _his_ stupid wife would come after him with Orlando, and I don't want _that_," Rachael snapped.

"Michelle is not stupid," Josh and Jen chorused automatically.

"Oh, yes she is," Rachael laughed. "And it would be a pretty stupid idea to disagree with me, considering the circumstances."

Jen bit her lip and said nothing more.

"So, Josh, what'll it be?" Rachael inquired casually.

"I'm not leaving," he said stubbornly.

"In that case…" Rachael started, letting the words hang in the air as she fingered the gun in her hand.

"Tell you what," Orli said finally. "How about if we just…" He drew back an arm and socked Mark full in the face. At last the other man fell silent.

"Well, that's a welcome change," Orli sighed gratefully.

"Unfortunately," Michelle added thoughtfully, sounding a bit grim, "we have no way to learn where Josh and Jen are now."

"Didn't think of that," Orli commented. "That may be a problem."  
"Oh well, in the meantime, we have things to do," Michelle said.

"Like what?" Orli questioned, confused.

"Well," Michelle muttered sheepishly, "I haven't had any lunch, and you probably haven't either, and we can figure out where to leave Mark until he decides to wake up."

Orli just stared. "Lunch is the first thing that comes to your mind."

Michelle looked even more abashed. "I'm _hungry_, and we can't do anything right now. But first… where should we leave this guy?"

Orli thought for a minute. "We could find a big chair and tie him up there, and then when he wakes up make him tell us where Rachael's keeping Jen."

Michelle nodded her approval. "Got any ropes?"


	11. Chapter 11

Josh and Jen looked at each other silently as Rachael played with the gun. _Go_, Jen's eyes pleaded. _Nobody needs you getting in trouble. I'll be fine. I honestly don't believe she'll hurt me. Rachael's all empty threats._

Josh had no idea how he could read Jen's eyes so well. Every detail of what she was trying to say was etched into the lines of her face, and Josh somehow just knew.

His response was not what Jen wanted, and he knew it. But there was nothing to be done for it. _I'm not leaving you_, he insisted silently. _If she's all empty threats, she won't hurt me either. Besides, Orli will be here soon enough. It'll all be fine._

Jen was still worried. _You can't be sure she won't hurt you._

That annoyed Josh a little. He was surprised that Jen could manage to annoy him at all under these circumstances. His "response" was curt. _No more can you._

_She needs me. It's all part of her master plan. But she'd be happy for any excuse to hurt Michelle, especially if it's through you._

Josh hadn't thought of that one. He didn't know what to say.

Rachael cut in and saved him the trouble of having Jen think she was right. "Are you two quite finished talking yet?" Both of them jerked in surprise. "Fine, Josh, if you won't leave, if you _insist_ on staying with Jennifer, here, then you'd better call your wife and tell her she'll regret it if she comes after you. I don't need any more complications than I already have."

Josh cocked his head, not bothering to hide his inquisition. "I'm sorry, but your friend over there has my cell phone."

"Oh." Rachael gestured to the other man to give Josh back his phone.

The call was brief enough. Josh didn't feel like arguing with Michelle, so he just called Orli, who confirmed that a man named Mark was indeed there, although at the moment he was "somewhat unconscious." Josh gave him explicit orders not to let Michelle go with Orli and Mark, if that was what ended up happening. And that was all it took.

"Very nice," Rachael declared. "Now, you two, follow me."

Josh and Jen exchanged glances and trailed slowly after Rachael. "Way to go, Josh," Jen hissed, angry. "You _really_ didn't need to do that."

Josh felt his own irritation rise in response. "If it were you in my place, would you leave me when I told you to go?"

Jen said nothing for a moment, then, "Fine. Fine. Just… fine."

"Well then," Josh said, rolling his eyes, "is this _fine_ with you?"

Jen whirled on him. "No, it's not fine! You could get hurt and you don't need to. You don't even need to be here at all! And now you're trying to get yourself caught up in this whole mess."

Josh groaned. "Jen, it's touching that you care about me. Really, it is. But like I said before, you wouldn't abandon me if I were in your position. So just… think about that. I couldn't leave you even if I wanted to."

Jen looked frustrated. "I don't want you to get hurt because of me, Josh!"

"Any more than Orli wants you to get hurt because of him," Josh responded evenly.

"What does _that_ have to do with anything?" Jen cried, unable to come up with anything cleverer to say.

"It has everything to do with everything."

"Oh, well, could you be a little more _vague_?" Jen yelled.

Rachael turned around. "Could you two _please_ shut up, it's getting so annoying," she snapped. "Let me make this simple for both of you: No, Jennifer, Josh does _not_ have to be here, and I am no more thrilled about it than you are. Josh, nobody _cares_ what Jennifer would do in your place, since she's _not_ in your place, and she never will be. So just… just… just shut up."

Jen stared a moment. "Well, I feel… unclean," she announced. "Rachael Leigh Cook and I actually _agree_ on something." She turned to Josh and stuck out her hand. "Josh, I withdraw my previous comment," she said formally. "You absolutely need to be here."

Josh took the proffered hand in his own, and shook. "Thank you, Jennifer."

Rachael sighed in exasperation, but said nothing more. Instead she led them silently to the third floor of the old house, which was actually rather nice inside, despite its musty appearance. Finally Rachael stopped at a wooden door that looked as though it had been recently put in. Jen had the feeling that had been, and also that it was there to serve an imminent purpose.

Rachael guided them inside and slammed the door shut. They heard her twist a key in the lock, and then soft footsteps padded away from the door.

Orli was not a happy camper. For one thing, Mark was starting to revive, and in a few minutes he would begin yelling again. Orli's headache had not fully abandoned him just yet, and he was enjoying the quiet.

For another thing, he was completely determined to go after Jen no matter what the cost. That hadn't been a huge problem until Josh had called, and now he had to figure out a way to keep Michelle from going with him.

He had no idea exactly how to accomplish this tremendous task. After all, Michelle's husband was with Jen, too. In Michelle's place, he would do serious damage to himself if he tried to stop her going.

But in the meantime, Michelle was off eating, and Orli had Mark to deal with. The other man had just woken up and was demanding to be untied. Orli stared him down, until he quieted. When Orli spoke, his voice was calm and forceful. "Listen, Mark. I need you to take me to Jen. And I need you to do it without a lot of noise. Michelle's not allowed to come with us. So I will go with you quietly if you can get us out of the house without Michelle realizing. And then Rachael won't destroy your television, and you can go home happy, and Josh and Jen can go home happy. I will not untie you until you agree to this. But as soon as you do, we'll be off."

Mark stared for a moment, sensing the power behind Orli's words. He nodded grudging agreement, and Orli untied him.

"Now we have to get out without Michelle noticing… I hope this works," Orli muttered softly, then turned around with Mark close behind.

Michelle was standing there glaring at him. "Too late."

Josh and Jen had nothing to do. They quickly found that their room had a bathroom attached, along with several windows, but there were no means of escape. After a few minutes they became bored and finally realized they were in for a long wait.

"So, have _you_ had any lunch?" Josh asked conversationally.

"Nope," Jen responded. "I was a little… busy. But now that you mention it…" There was a little lurch in the inner region of her stomach, and she felt that her breakfast was about to come up. "Now that you mention it…" she began again, "don't mention it."

"How's that again?" Josh asked, confused.

"I'm going to be sick," Jen groaned. "That's just great. I'm getting sick." A sudden thought occurred to her, but she brushed it off. She was just coming down with the flu or something, that was all. And she was stressed. This was nothing out of the ordinary.

Josh didn't look happy. "Well, on the up side-" he began.

Jen interrupted with, "There's an _up_ side?"

Josh glared, although not angry. "Yeah… at least there's a bathroom close at hand."

Jen groaned again. "Now I'm _really_ going to be sick."

Josh looked visibly affronted. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

Jen waved him off. "Forget about it. Actually, I haven't felt all that well in a few weeks. It's nothing. I've just been overstressed lately."

Josh didn't look convinced. "If you say so…"

"Well, we're in for a long wait," Jen declared, deliberately changing the subject. "Do you happen to have a deck of cards on you?"

"_Way_ too late," Michelle repeated. She looked extremely mad. It was cold, but Orli wouldn't have been particularly surprised if smoke started coming out her ears. Michelle did not appreciate being left out of anything, especially something this important.

That was showing.

"Michelle," Orli began, hoping he could reason with her.

Michelle cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I'm coming," she stated flatly.

"No, you are not," Orli and Mark chorused together.

"Josh said she would hurt him if you did," Orli lied. Actually, what Josh had said was that Michelle would regret it- that wasn't quite the same, he imagined. Still.

Michelle gave him her famous look, the Michelle-Hartnett-I-Know-You're-Lying-And-You-Better-Not-Try-To-Change-My-Mind-With-That-Crap-Or-Someone-Will-Get-Hurt look, otherwise known as the MHIKYLAYBNTTCMMWTCOSWGH look. It was a look she did not use very often, but just then she had it on with full force, and it made Orli cringe slightly just thinking what she might be considering doing to him"I'm _not_," he insisted in response to the unspoken accusation, reluctantly yanking his mind away from the much safer topic of the ridiculously complicated names the group gave to Michelle's Looks. Michelle's response was an even stronger dose of the MHIKYLAYBNTTCMMWTCOSWGH look, which, up till then, Orli hadn't thought was possible. He sighed, mildly irritated. He did _not_ have time to deal with Michelle's drama.

So, he did the next best thing. "Michelle," he started.

Michelle gave him a Look. "Yes?" Her sugary sweet voice sounded more poisonous than not.

Orli sighed again and whispered a few choice words to Mark, who advanced on the smaller woman. It repulsed Orli to actually need this man's help in dealing with a good friend, but he had no alternative. He watched silently until Mark had both Michelle's arms firmly twisted behind her back (it was a brief struggle), then instructed Mark to Jen's darkroom, which she always kept a padlock on, lest Orli wander in and mess everything up.

The padlock was finally coming in handy, in Orli's opinion.

They locked Michelle inside and left the house quickly after that, despite her screaming obscenities (Orli was not looking forward to returning- if indeed he was able to return- to an exceptionally pissed off Michelle, but he would deal with that later).

Josh groaned. "I'm so horrible at this. That's at least the fourth round of this ridiculous card game that you've won."

Jen shrugged unrepentantly. "Well, look on the bright side-"

"There's a _bright_ side?" Josh asked, disbelieving.

Jen grinned. "That's exactly what _I_ said to you before. But yes, there _is_ a bright side."

Josh waited.

"We've played five games," Jen explained, when it became clear that Josh had nothing to say.

Josh glared at her. "Oh, great. So I've won _once_. _What_ did you say this stupid game was called?"

Jen looked miffed. "It is _not_ a stupid game, and I don't know what it's called. Besides, what would we be doing if we didn't have cards to play these wonderful games with?"  
Josh laughed. "I still cannot believe I actually had a deck of cards lost in one of my pockets."

Jen snickered, resting her head on his shoulder. "Well, you have to be useful for _something_."

Josh shoved her head off his shoulder.

"Hey," Jen whined. "I was _resting_ there."

"Yeah, well," Josh said shamelessly. "It is my shoulder, after all."

"No, it's not."

"Jen, we've had this conversation before. Crack is bad, and you really need to think about quitting."

"It is _not_ crack. Will you get it straight already? It's just pot. There's no harm in pot."

Josh laughed. "You're too perfect to ever do pot."

Jen agreed with, "Yeah, I know. I'm just one of those perfect people." She dropped her tired head back onto his shoulder.

Josh looked down at her, eyebrows raised even though she couldn't see his face the way she was positioned. "You make me mad again, and your little head is getting bumped off my shoulder for good."

"Yeah, yeah," Jen muttered into his sleeve, sounding like a petulant six-year-old who always talked back to her mother.

Josh shook his head slightly, smiling. He was glad Jen wasn't alone. Otherwise, she wouldn't have a shoulder to lean on- both literally and figuratively.

Orli and Mark left the house in a tearing hurry. Unfortunately they were using Orli's car, since Mark hadn't actually had one. Orli wasn't quite clear on this, but from what he gathered the other man had come with Rachael and simply waited before going into the house. When he asked Mark why he'd had to come in at all, the man only grunted, "Just in case," and refused to elaborate further.

Orli sighed and impatiently jolted the car to a halt at a red light. He was taking directions from Mark, since of course he had no clue where he was going, but even Mark needed a long page of driving instructions to remember how to reach their destination. It looked like it would be a terribly long ride, and Mark was quickly proving to be equally bad company.

Slightly less than two hours later the two men arrived at a ramshackle farm, as Orli supposed it once had been. He stared at Mark. "_This_ is it?"

The other man glared. "You were expecting a palace, maybe?"

"Not a palace… but maybe a little nicer than this… this… this _dump_."

Mark sniffed. When he spoke, he sounded offended. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Orli just shrugged. "Well, the word does have a negative connotation."

Mark just looked blank. In response to the unspoken question, Orli replied simply, disgusted, "Buy a dictionary."

Mark, exasperated, got out of the car and slammed the door extra hard, venting his aggravation. Orli followed, shaking his head.

Inside, Orli was surprised to discover, the house was a good deal nicer than it looked from the outside, rather as though someone had gone to great lengths to renovate it within the last few years. The flooring, countertops, furniture and doors all looked brand-new, and there was even electricity (which of course was a shock, all things considered). Mark wandered ahead of him to call through the silent house, "Rachael! Florida's here! Do you want me to bring him up to the third floor to see that Jennifer person?"

That gave Orli an idea- a wild, insane, hopeless, reckless idea, but an idea. He trotted off silently to find the nearest staircase and disappeared, quick as lightning. In a moment he found what he was searching for and began climbing. A few rooms over he could hear Rachael and Mark conversing rather loudly and wondered if one of them mightn't be hard of hearing. Orli caught his name, spoken in a loud, frantic voice, and several comments concerning him followed, which he found not pleasant but had no time to reflect upon.

In another minute Orli had found the third floor and was wandering down it, searching for locked doors and calling softly through them. After several unsuccessful tries, he heard Josh's voice on the other side. Looking down at the doorknob, Orli groaned. He needed a key to open this one, unlike several of the others. He looked around, desperate to find something even remotely useful, and his gaze fell by chance on a desk sitting in the hallway (it managed to look as though it very much belonged there). There were stacks and stacks of papers and bills all over it.

Several of them, Orli couldn't help noticing, were held together with big paper clips.

He ran this by Josh, who ecstatically suggested that he pick the lock. Orli groaned aloud, suddenly remembering that he'd never learned the fine art of picking locks. But, with whispered instructions from Josh, he managed, and smiled in satisfaction as the door clicked open.

Jen was fast asleep within ten minutes, although Josh couldn't imagine that his shoulder was all that comfortable. He smiled down at her, laughing softly to himself in mild amusement. She looked so cute. Josh honestly wouldn't have been terribly surprised if she'd started sucking her thumb and making little baby noises.

That would have been absolutely adorable.

At any rate, Jen did nothing of the sort. After a few minutes Josh's shoulder started hurting, and he gently shifted her to a point where she was sleeping on the bed, with actual pillows. Jen didn't stir, but slept soundly on.

For an uneventful hour or so, Josh found little with which to entertain himself. Solitaire quickly became dull, and he had nobody else to play games with. There was no television or phone in the room. The CD player in one corner would have been more useful if there were any CDs to play. The radio attached didn't seem to be able to pick up any stations properly. So Josh wandered aimlessly around the room, and when he grew tired he subtly took a pillow from the bed and fell asleep on the floor (he had considered just sleeping next to Jen; after all it _was_ a king-sized bed, but he decided upon reflection that this would not go down too well with Jen, Orli _or_ Michelle, no matter how much explaining he did). It was not a particularly comfortable floor. Josh had noticed that much of the house looked new inside and wondered why Rachael couldn't have bothered to replace the worn floor in this particular room, or at least sand the wood down so he didn't have to worry about getting splinters.

Out of nowhere, Josh suddenly heard a soft noise on the other side of the door. He was a light sleeper and had only just woken up at that instant, so for a moment he thought he'd simply hallucinated. When the noise came again, he leapt up and hissed, "Orli? What the hell…"

"No time to explain anything," Orli whispered back. "It'll just have to wait until later." He was silent a moment, then groaned. "I need a key to open this stupid door… Great… _Now_ what… Wait a moment…" He left for a moment, but swiftly came back, bearing the news that he had discovered a paperclip, whereupon Josh suggested that he could pick the locks if necessary. At this point Orli realized that he could _not_ pick locks, and said as much. Josh was disappointed, and not at all sure he could explain just how a paperclip could be used to open a door, but he had to try, and their time was short.

Luck seemed to be with him in an unusually large quantity; after a very tense minute of fumbling, the door sprang open. "Where's Jen?" Orli cried, not seeing her immediately.

"Oh, right," Josh muttered, feeling sheepish. He would have realized in another three seconds that Jen was not standing with them, but he hadn't just yet. He felt like an idiot but did his best to hide it as he strode over to the bed and shook Jen awake.

Jen's initial reaction ran to the lines of, "Orli! Why are you here? They wouldn't have hurt me if you hadn't come…" And a feeling of déjà vu swept over Orli as he remembered his dream earlier that day (was it really only that day? It felt like a lifetime ago), wondering. But he quickly dismissed the feeling. All he had time to do was give Jen a warm, reassuring hug before the three quietly crept downstairs, as quickly as they dared. There was an especially frightening moment when they saw people on the second floor, opening and slamming doors, clearly looking for them, but they slipped past without earning any notice.

They had just gotten outside when Jen swayed suddenly and announced giddily, "This can't be right. This is too easy," at which point she broke away from Josh and Orli and was violently ill in the bushes. Josh whispered to Orli, "She's getting sick or something. She says it's just the flu… I don't know, but I don't think we have to worry about it, unless we get caught here." Orli nodded, but he was still afraid.

Jen returned, all smiles. "I think I'm delirious. Does a delirious person know she's delirious?" Whether or not she was, in the next instant, looking over Orli's shoulder, she frowned and sobered immediately. "Uh-oh." And Orli knew without turning around that Rachael had finally found them. But when he did turn around, he also saw a big, burly man who looked very ready to hurt someone.

Rachael's voice carried easily across the grass. "Unless you want your wife to be… severely wounded… I suggest you stop, Orlando."

Orli sighed. He had even less time to deal with Rachael than he'd had to deal with Michelle, and that was saying quite a lot. He pushed Jen behind him. "You wouldn't," he told Rachael, cool and distant. "There would be nothing for me here if you did." Josh and Jen frowned, realizing the truth of the words and wondering why they themselves hadn't thought of it earlier.

Rachael shrugged. "But there would be nothing for you at home, either."

Orli gave her a look. He didn't believe a response was necessary, but he gave one anyway. "There's someone at home for all of us right now. And even if there weren't, there would still be _something_. And there would never be anything here for me. So that's about the dumbest thing I've heard in pretty much my whole life."

Jen spoke up, pushing herself in front of Orli, voice steady now. "You can't use that gun. You only have it for show. You would have done something already if you could have made yourself."

Rachael looked angry, upset and just a bit defeated. "Fine," she admitted. "So I can't use this gun. That doesn't mean that I have a problem giving someone else the order to."

"It would still be on your hands," Jen reminded her.

Rachael shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it?" Jen's words hung in the air for a full minute before anyone moved. Then Rachael snapped out of a semi-trance to shove her gun into the hands of the man behind her. "Do something," she instructed.

The man looked down at her, sadly. "You can't kill, so you want these people's blood to be on my hands."

"Can't you do that much? You were in the war!"

Nobody had time to wonder what she meant. All the man said was, "This is different. In the war I killed because I had to. I don't have to kill these three. They're helpless besides."

Josh and Orli resented that, but Jen barely noticed, too eager to see where this was going, and what was going to happen.

Rachael snapped. "Then give me the gun!" she screamed. "I'll kill Jennifer myself; I'm tired for waiting for my moment! Every time I have them in the palm of my hand, someone comes along and screws it up! First Tobey, now you…" She quieted a moment, reflecting on the words. "First Tobey… now… you?"

The man sighed gently. "I've always agreed with Tobey. But I was afraid to speak out. I've always since admired his courage, that he made the first move." He held the gun above her head so she couldn't catch him unaware and snatch it away, before looking to Josh and Orli, both utterly puzzled, and Jen, who was beginning to understand. _"Someone… agrees with him… I have no idea who… No, you weren't wrong. But you believed you were…" _Jen exhaled quietly, finally realizing that this was the way in which she and her friends would hold luck for the rest of their lives, which, thanks to this nameless war veteran, would be much longer than the next few minutes. The man looked at her and nodded slightly, realizing she knew what was going on. "Go," he whispered. "Go now."

Jen nodded, throat too tight to speak. She tugged Orli and Josh along with her. "Come on," she murmured. "This is our chance." She didn't even get to tell the man thank you, or goodbye.

But he knew. And she knew he knew.

Josh headed for his car and made Orli swear not to leave without him close behind. Orli and Jen climbed into Orli's car, which was still parked in the driveway, and patiently waited until Josh was behind them before they pulled away from that road, and made an unspoken pact to leave the past behind with the old house, so hideous on the outside but beautiful inside, the complete opposite of Rachael, Jen reflected.

She was glad to be leaving.

Orli glanced sideways at her as they rumbled down the highway. "Are you all right?" he asked gently.

She nodded without words, still lost in contemplation. He gave her an awkward one-armed hug. "I'm glad you're back with us," he murmured into her hair.

That reminded Jen of something. "What did you do with Michelle? I can't see her happily consenting to not coming with you."

Orli deliberately looked back to the road. "I don't suppose you would like to be the one who lets her out of the darkroom."

Jen stared in open horror, then started to laugh. "You locked my best friend in my darkroom?"

Orli sniffed. "I thought _I_ was your best friend."

"Well," Jen amended, "you are. But…"

"It was the only way to stop her! Nothing else had a lock," Orli protested.

Jen grinned. "Well, _I'm_ not going to be the one who explains that to her."

Just then Josh called, wondering the same thing. His reaction, however, was not the same as Jen's. "You WHAT?" Jen heard him yell.

"Josh, this is wasting my minutes," Orli answered patiently, "and I really need to think about driving. _You_ were the one who told me to keep her away."

"Yeah, but not like _that_," Josh roared. "You- oh, forget it. Just… just… yeah."

"How's that again?"

"Shut up, Orli. You seem to have a prime spot on my hit list right now."

"_Hey_," Jen objected in the background. Orli laughed and hung up.

After getting over the initial shock, Michelle discovered that Jen had chemicals and photo paper out. She wasted no time in finding a permanent marker and writing ORLI IS ON MY SHIT LIST in very tiny letters on the beginning of a roll of processed negatives, which contained no picture. She contented herself with making an 8x10 of it.

It came out very nicely.

Afterwards, she reconciled herself to the fact that Jen did not keep food in the darkroom, and then she came to terms with the realization that a darkroom floor was not a comfortable place to take a nap on. So she made more pictures, but grew bored after about an hour and a half.

So she sat down and waited. After a couple more hours she heard the door open and collected herself with a huge yawn, struggling to stand. She heard the padlock on the other side click, and then the door swung open. She blinked in the harsh light, having long since grown accustomed to the dim safelights of the darkroom.

Orli was on the other side of the door, looking quite ready to apologize. Michelle simply gave him her I'll-Kill-You-Later-I'm-Too-Tired-Right-Now (IKYLITTRN) look, which she had spent some time practicing in the darkroom, as she presented him with the pictures she'd produced and requested, "Orli, next time you absolutely must do something like that to me, would you make sure there's food and a bed, and a window so I have something to look at." It was not a polite question, but really rather a demand.

"Jen," she mumbled as she turned to the other woman, only half-awake and desperately in want of some food and sleep. "You're back."

"You noticed," Jen replied dryly.

Michelle revived enough to grin, and she and Jen shared a big hug. "Nice to see you again," Michelle whispered. "You really should stop running off to get yourself killed. It's a bad habit."

Jen laughed. "But it's my life, and I like it."

Josh cut in. "Go over to your own husband," he ordered Jen. "It's my turn with Michelle." Jen smiled and did as she was told, for a change.

"Now we can have our happy little reunion that we didn't have time for before," Orli murmured to Jen.

Jen gave him a fiendish grin. "What sort of reunion are we planning on having?" she asked innocently (although the look on her face suggested she was thinking some not-so-innocent things).

Orli looked at her. "Well, if you're sick…" he began.

"Jen's sick?" Michelle interrupted, overhearing. "Really now… I thought she was sick a couple weeks ago…" She looked as though she were doing some deep thinking ("Better leave her alone for an hour or two," Josh teased in a stage whisper). But Orli, watching her, suddenly had his first revelation, and understood why people's faces light up when that happens to them.

"Oh," he said simply, and nothing more.

Josh and Jen still looked puzzled, so Orli whispered a few choice words into Jen's ear.

She continued to look somewhat… blank. "I've just been stressed," she insisted. "It happens."

"You've been tired and cranky and you've had persistent headaches for weeks," Michelle contributed. "I looked it up online. And _when_ was the last time you had…"

"I get it!" Jen cried, not wanting her normal monthly cycle to be discussed in front of Josh (even talking about it in from of Orli was pushing it, in her opinion).

"And haven't your…"

"Shut _up_, Michelle," Jen yelled, not wanting certain other feminine things discussed in front of the other two, either.

"You know I'm right," Michelle pronounced, sounding firm. "Orli knows too." She paused for a moment, frowning. "And Josh… judging from the look on his face, Josh is still not all here." She shrugged. "But hey… the rest of us…"

"No… _no_," Jen stated firmly. "No."

"I thought you wanted this," Michelle said, confused.

"No. Not _now_," Jen cried. "No… I don't know, it's so wonderful… but… I don't know. I wanted this… I wanted this _after_ I had my life in order. I'm still trying to tie down a career I've barely started, and I want to dance, too, and Orli's still filming…"

"He won't be forever," Michelle interrupted.

"But…" Jen protested. "I wanted to settle down first. I'm not ready… Orli…" She turned to her husband in appeal, but Orli's face was impassive. "I'm as thrilled or as disappointed as you are, Jen," he said gently.

"I _want_ this," Jen whispered, sniffling. "But… are we really ready?"

Orli put his arm around her and held her close. "Are _you_ ready? Because I will be there whenever you decide you are, and I will wait for you because you are worth it to me. This is your decision."

Jen gave him a watery smile. "Thank you."

"I'm so lost," Josh contributed, contributing nothing.

The other three looked at him for a full minute without saying anything.

"_What_?" Josh asked. "I don't get it."

"Josh, you're such an idiot! I can't believe I married an idiot!" Michelle cried in disbelief, or perhaps denial.

"But it's old news to everyone else," Orli teased gently.

Michelle laughed. "But I've always been a little slow on the uptake."

"True," Orli reflected.

Michelle couldn't keep a straight face. So she didn't try. "But really, Josh…"

Josh, realizing he wasn't going to get a straight answer out of Michelle for a long time yet, turned to his next hope. "I'm so confused! Jen!"

Jen sighed. She looked so happy, and so sad, and so lost, and so complete all at the same time. "I'm… pregnant."


	12. Chapter 12

Josh stared. "You're… what?" He turned to Orli. "Jen's pregnant?"

"It takes him ten minutes," Orli said in disgust, speaking to nobody in particular.

"So…" Josh ventured timidly, still somewhat perplexed, "now what?"

"Now what?" Michelle echoed. "You want us to tell the baby we know it's in there, and maybe it should come out now that we've found it out?"

Josh gave her a look.

"I'm shutting up now," she added.

"Orli!" Jen yelled, annoyed. It was about two weeks after she'd learned she was pregnant, and she was getting sick of needing to blow her way through a box of tissues every three hours.

Her husband came running. "What?"

"Is this obnoxious cold part of being pregnant or is that just my bad luck?"

"It's _winter_, Jen," Orlando pointed out mildly, amused. "Josh says Michelle's sick too. And we're pretty sure _she's_ not pregnant."

"You never know with that girl," Jen sniffed. "She probably just doesn't want to tell us."

Orli laughed. "You've been a bit sick for awhile now. And you're so grumpy every time you get something as little as the sniffles. It's… cute."

"There is nothing cute or attractive about sniffling and coughing and sneezing eighteen times in a row," Jen muttered, feeling like a little girl all over again. She sighed and blew her nose, muttering under her breath about incompetent husbands who thought they knew everything. Stopping abruptly, she broached a topic the two hadn't talked about in a few weeks. "Orli?" she asked, tentative, feeling as though she were eight and asking her mother to see if her friend could come over to play.

He looked at her and cocked his head to one side inquisitively, but said nothing.

Jen continued anyway. "What did Rachael want with you?"

Orli looked as though someone had slapped him in the face, and Jen felt bad, but there was no way to take back her words, and besides, the question had been eating at her for weeks. So she waited patiently for Orli to speak.

He looked down at the ground and muttered something about sex, status with friends and quite a bit about wanting to act in an R-rated movie together.

Jen stared.

Orli was blushing; he refused to look at her. "I heard her talking to that Mark in another room when I left to find you," he explained. "She was yelling at him for leaving me alone and saying something about why it was so imperative that I be there in the first place. So…"

"Oh, wow," Jen whispered. "Were you ever planning on telling me?"

"No," Orli sighed, still seeming fascinated by the carpet. "What good would it do? You have enough to worry about." Deliberately changing the topic, he added, "Did you tell your boss you're pregnant?"

Jen winced. "Not exactly. Like you said, it wouldn't do me much good. I'll tell him soon enough," she continued, "but right now I'm still trying to secure this whole job."

Orli smiled, relieved at having found solid ground on which to build a conversation. "How's it going anyway? You don't talk about it too much."

"You're probably not all that interested," Jen responded. Upon seeing Orli's offended look, she clarified, "Right now it's a lot of paperwork and picking out songs and paperwork and worrying about whether I should sing Christmas songs at this concert the company's hosting, and some more paperwork."

Orli had stopped hearing after a certain point. "What's this about a Christmas concert?" he asked, surprised that he hadn't heard about it yet. Cutting off Jen's response, he cried, sounding angry, "You never tell me anything anymore!"

Jen looked startled, and hurt. She opened her mouth to speak, but Orli stopped her again. "So, how about dinner over the weekend, if you're feeling better? We can catch up on everything. My treat," he added as an afterthought.

Jen glared at him. "Orlando I-Wish-You-Had-A-Friggin'-Middle-Name Bloom!" she yelled. "Don't go making me think you're angry with me when all you want to do is go out to dinner together!"

Orli could think of nothing to say, so he grinned sheepishly and commenced tickling her. She shrieked and swatted at him ineffectively. "Orli!" she gasped when she'd had enough. "This might be bad for the baby!"

Orli stopped immediately, looking repentant. "Is it really?"

"No," Jen answered, breathless from laughing, "but it worked like a charm. I'll be using that one a lot for the next seven months of your life."

Orli groaned. "And it'll work every time, because I'll never know if you just might be telling the truth."

Jen laughed. "But that's the beauty of it."

Orli couldn't suppress a laugh of his own. "So, where should we go for dinner?"

Jen was feeling much better over the weekend, so she and Orli headed off to a hopelessly fancy French restaurant together, complete with orchestral music playing softly in the background and candles as the only means of light.

After they'd ordered their meals, which they needed the waitress's help to pronounce, Orli leaned across the table and smiled. "This is where we were when I proposed, remember?"

Jen smiled, her eyes glazed over as though she weren't really seeing Orli, but rather the past. "How could I ever forget?" she whispered dreamily. "We were sitting at that table over there-" she pointed "-and I thought, when you told me we needed to talk, you were going to break up with me. You looked so serious…"

Orli laughed. "You did look pretty nervous. I remember that much. And I was wearing this formal jacket with way too many pockets and I couldn't remember which one I'd left the ring in."

"It took you a few minutes, and I was just sitting there wondering what you were doing. I didn't want to believe you were trying to find an engagement ring because that would be too good to be true and I didn't want to be disappointed when that wasn't what you were looking for," Jen remembered.

"And _I_ wasn't even sure I was ready to propose, ready to be a husband," Orli went on. "I actually just wanted to find out what you thought about the whole thing, because I had grown to love you so much and I was too afraid of rejection to just ask you to marry me right then and there."

"What convinced you to then?" Jen wondered, fascinated.

"I don't know," Orli confessed. "I was just sitting there, and I was watching you, and _then_ I became more afraid that if I didn't propose right then, I would lose my only chance to. So, I did. And it was the smartest thing I've ever done."

Jen's lips curved into a soft smile. "I can't argue with that."

"And now look at us," Orli murmured. "This time next year, we'll be parents."

Jen looked alarmed. "Do you really believe we're ready for that big a step? We've only been married for six months. I'm scared of messing up, somehow. I'm scared of being responsible for an innocent little baby's _life_," she admitted.

Orli reached for her hand and held it in his. "Every parent is," he insisted. "It's normal. But you know what? Of all the people I've ever met- and I've met a lot- you are the first person I would think capable of raising a child. You are loving, and compassionate, and stern without anger, and you have a great sense of humor, and you are mature and responsible. Don't be afraid."

Jen sniffed, feeling tears prickle in her eyes at the enormous weight of responsibility she was only now beginning to realize she was burdened with. "What about Michelle? She's all of those things, and more."

"No, she's not," Orli said firmly. "You are two completely different people. Don't ever compare yourself to Michelle. She'll make a good mother in her own way, someday. But you are not Michelle, and everything I love about you, the reasons why I am _in_ love with you, are completely different from the reasons I love Michelle. _You_ will make a wonderful mother. I know it."

Jen's smile was slightly teary. "Do you really believe that, or are you just saying it?"

Orli's dark eyes fastened onto her own, serious and intent. "I really, truly believe that, Jen." He lifted her hand and kissed it gently. "And you should too."

After dinner they took a walk through Battery Park. The nice thing about New York, Jen reflected, was that you could get away from the hustle and bustle of the city without ever really leaving it.

The park was quiet. An elderly couple sat on a park bench, laughing fondly about their youth. Jen fought the urge to rush over and ask if, sometime in the youth they were so affectionately remembering, they'd managed to raise children, and how.

A mother nearby scolded a toddler for wandering off. Jen wondered if that would be her someday, displaying anger to mask her terror, because for a heart-stopping instant, she was afraid she had lost her child.

A teenage couple strolled by, hand in hand, speaking softly, love in their eyes. Jen wanted to run over and warn them of what they could be facing in just a few short years.

_Is this how I'll be the rest of my life? Jen asked herself. I'm just trying to enjoy a date with my husband, and all I can think about is everybody else and their hypothetical children._

Orli nudged her gently. "You want to sit down?" he asked softly, indicating a vacant bench.

Jen nodded and sank gratefully onto the cold bench. Orli sat next to her and waited for her to make the first move.

The world spun dizzily. Jen leaned her head on Orli's shoulder and cried in earnest, silent sobs that racked her whole body and left her breathless, physically exhausted, unable to speak.

Orli stroked her head gently and murmured words of comfort. But if Jen had been looking up, she would have seen the lost, anguished look in his eyes as they stared uncomprehendingly at something nobody else could see. He was just as scared as she was. But he had to be strong for her.

At last Jen was able to lift her head. Eyes teary, mascara running in rivers down her cheeks, she looked at Orli and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" he whispered back.

"I don't know… I just am," Jen answered quietly.

Orli held her close. "Don't be. I want children. Don't you?"

"Yes," Jen responded, "but… Oh, I'm being ridiculous, I'm sorry. It's these raging hormones. In another minute I'll start giggling hysterically."

"We better leave before that happens," Orli suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

A small giggle escaped Jen, and a smile formed on her lips. Orli grinned. "I saw that smile, Jen," he teased.

"I'm not trying to hide it," Jen insisted. "But nobody's said that to me since I was _six_."

"Well, then somebody needs to tell you again," Orli exclaimed.

Jen laughed through her tears, joy mixing with sorrow, anticipation with anxiety.

The phone rang. Jen groaned and stretched her arm as far as it would go, attempting to reach the phone on the end table. When that didn't work, she tried telling it, in very explicit terms, to shut up. And when that too failed, she sighed and listened to the machine.

After the beep came Michelle's voice. Jen sighed again, hoping Michelle would provide her with a little bit of entertainment; she could use the humor. But no.

"Jen dear," Michelle began, the mechanism of the answering machine making her voice sound tinny. "I was talking to my dear sister the other day, and she was telling me about how she talked to you online, and how you told her that you were in a dance downtown, but that you wouldn't tell her where it was, and also that it was sold out. So I was just wondering."

Jen, wincing, braced herself for the inevitable round of furious yelling that was about to come.

"Did you FORGET to tell me about _The Christmas Angel_? Did it just SLIP YOUR MIND? Or did you think I wouldn't FIND OUT about it? Or was I supposed to not be FURIOUS? I mean, forget HIGHLY OFFENDED, I've been MORTALLY WOUNDED." Michelle took a few deep breaths to calm herself before continuing. "And that is all I have to say. Good-bye forever."

Jen frowned. "Oh dear," she thought to herself.

Orli stepped out of the bedroom, clad in only a fluffy white bath towel. A tidal wave of steam issued from the room behind him. He looked at her. "What's wrong with Michelle?"

Jen shrugged. "Who ever knows."

"Ah." Orli shrugged. "Well, I'm off to go get dressed."

"Nah," Jen muttered. "Don't bother. You look great ass is. Ass is. As is!" She sat up straight suddenly, eyes wide. "I did not just say that. Forget I said that."

Orli laughed softly as he stepped back into the bedroom and quietly shut the door behind him.

Five minutes later he came out again, this time fully clothed. But instead of going to sit next to his wife, he headed for the answering machine to listen to Michelle's message.

Apparently, he found it very funny, although he did ask what _The Christmas Angel_ was, and did demand to know why Jen hadn't told him about it, being as he was her husband, and not at all eccentric and likely to do something embarrassing if he attended her dance, unlike the person who had left the message on the machine. Jen had to make up a quick excuse about how the company owners would _probably_ let famous people in, even if the play had been sold out for months, whereupon Orli slyly suggested that perhaps Josh and Michelle would like to go to.

Jen did not favor this particular idea.

Orli, trying to suppress an unseemly laugh, changed the topic before he was forced to do so anyway. "Jen, when exactly did you get pregnant?"

Jen frowned. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "I don't know."

That weekend found Jen onstage at a prestigious downtown dance theater, and (not terribly surprising) Orli, Josh and Michelle in the front row, Michelle loudly applauding even though nothing had happened yet. Jen flashed briefly back to the email Michelle's friend had sent her, entitled Fun Things To Do At The Movies. She only hoped Michelle wasn't going to put any of the suggestions into practice at her show.

Luckily, Josh and Orli made Michelle behave, for which Jen was immensely grateful. She was already slightly nervous just having her friends there and focused so hard on not messing up that she almost tripped once or twice. Fortunately, she was pretty sure nobody noticed, and anyway most people would forgive her for one little mistake.

David, who played a major role in preserving Jen's dignity when he had to carry her, was not the same. Jen knew he had a wild crush on her best friend and was a little worried that he would try very hard to impress her.

She was, it can be safely said, not wrong.

In a certain part of the show, Jen was supposed to be riding on David's back. Obviously nervous, he stumbled and dropped her. Jen heard Josh trying to stifle a snicker, and Orli elbowing him none too gently in return, but Michelle just looked bemused for some incomprehensible, obscure Michelle-type reason.

Backstage Jen yelled at David, mortified though he already was, and in the next show he didn't drop her. Instead, he lost his balance and she couldn't stay on him, which, technically, was just as bad and ultimately produced the same disastrous end results.

Jen was highly embarrassed, but even she couldn't keep the grin off her face when David went outside after the last performance, immediately located Michelle and practically started drooling on himself trying to talk to her. Orli was laughing silently, Josh looked annoyed and Michelle was pointedly glaring at Jen, who gave her a friendly smile and wave.

But then, consenting slightly to Michelle's unspoken demand, Jen walked over to her friends and very politely introduced David, suggesting that the five of them go out to lunch in an hour.

Josh and Michelle hastily made some excuse about how they had to go get their Christmas tree.

"You already have one," Orli pointed out kindly.

Michelle gave him a Look. "Yeah, well, we need _another_ one," she stated as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I heard you laughing when David dropped me, Josh," Jen commented sweetly.

"I did not," Josh denied.

"I had to elbow him in the side to get him to shut up," Orli contributed solemnly, his dark eyes dancing.

"So I'm just saying, maybe you two should come out to lunch with us, to make up for that," Jen continued. "Your Christmas tree can wait."

"No it can't!" Michelle cried, sounding panicked. Jen and Orli burst out laughing.

"You two are hilarious," Michelle said dryly. "But, regretfully, we really do need to get that other Christmas tree as soon as possible. So, we'll just be off…"

Jen laughed at the heartsick longing on David's face. He turned to her and asked anxiously, "Was it something I said?"

Jen attempted to look sympathetic. "She's just very, very into the holidays."

"Has a Christmas tree in practically every room. I think I even saw one in the bathroom once," Orli added, straight-faced.

"So you'll just have to catch her another time… I'm sure there'll be another time," Jen finished. "But for now, we should catch up with them. I have to see how they think I looked onstage!"

Orli grinned and kissed her dramatically (David muttered something to the effect of "Ew" and left). Jen burst out laughing as soon as they pulled apart. "Thank you for getting him away from me."

Orli snickered. "I don't think it was you he was after. But I would've done that anyway," he declared. "You looked beautiful up there."

"Yeah?" Jen asked, feeling conceited but wanting to hear more.

"Yeah," Orli said.

"So should we go out to lunch to celebrate?" Jen asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"I think I'm supposed to ask that," Orli teased affectionately.

"Yeah, well," Jen said, unabashed, as they went to catch up with Josh and Michelle, who were waiting by their Beamer, Michelle's favorite and highly impractical car. Michelle leaned against it with her arms folded across her chest, looking comfortable even though it was only forty-five degrees out, with a look on her face that told Jen she was getting ready to research black magic just to use it on her best friend (which indicated some kind of odd aspect of their relationship, Jen thought, but she wasn't sure).

Michelle held up a hand as if to ward off anything Jen might have had to say. "I'm not even going to get started here. Are we going out to lunch?"

Jen looked slightly relieved. "Don't you have to go get another Christmas tree?" she asked slyly.

"Christmas tree?" Michelle repeated, puzzled. "What do we need another Christmas tree for?"

Jen laughed as the four friends recounted the dance recital and basked in their praise of her performance (still feeling a bit vain for it). When she had heard enough and was no longer entirely sure if the other three were being completely honest, she heard herself wonder aloud, "What are we doing for Christmas?"

That stopped the conversation as they all thought about it. "I have no idea," Josh admitted blankly. "We have to get together somehow, but are we planning to do anything special?"

Jen shrugged. "I don't know, I just wondered if we were doing something together. You two could come over to our place and we'll exchange presents."

Michelle smiled. "Sounds perfect. Hey, Jen, are you singing at your company's Christmas concert next weekend?"

Orli looked at his wife in mock outrage. _"Michelle _knew about this and I _didn't_? Since when do you ever tell _Michelle_ anything you don't tell me?"

The cause of Orli's indignation frowned at him. "Orlando Bloom, do _not_ say my name like it's a bad word."

Jen frowned too. "I didn't even know she did know about it."

Michelle looked smug.

Jen stared at her.

Michelle stared right back.

"Oh, all _right_," Michelle surrendered. "I read it online. I don't even remember the site, but after Janine had to tell me about _The Christmas Angel_, I looked it up myself. Surprise, you and Orli are all over the Internet. It didn't take that long to find the site for the company you sing with. Apparently they like to brag about you."

Jen looked slightly ill. "I'm… flattered. It's that easy to find whatever you want about me?"

Michelle grinned, a big, cheesy grin that she was well known for. "It's that easy. But," she added hastily, seeing the look on her friend's face, "there's nothing about you and Orli having a baby, or anything. Nobody knows yet, except us, I guess. So, _are_ you going to be singing at the Christmas concert?"

"Yes," Jen muttered reluctantly. "Can I count on your being there in the front row making fun of me the whole time?"

Michelle's eyes opened wide. "_Me_? I would _never_."

The next weekend Jen was onstage again, this time belting out lyrics to "Angels We Have Heard on High" and "Joy to the World" in her clear soprano voice. Michelle, Orli and Josh were, of course, in the front row again. Michelle had her head cocked to one side like a little girl (Jen privately thought Michelle would have looked even cuter if she were wearing pigtails but didn't dare suggest it), smiling along with the music and for once in her little life, not making fun or being obnoxious.

"You sounded beautiful, Jen," she told her sincerely when it was over. "Let's go to a movie to celebrate! I've been good for two hours and that's all I can take."

"Sure, why not," Jen muttered, voice a bit raw after all that singing. "I bet you have a copy of your Fun Things To Do At The Movies in the car with you, don't you?"

Michelle looked faintly surprised. "Not actually. But I do remember a lot of it," she added with a devious smile.

"That's it, we are _not_ going to the movies," Orli put in firmly.

"I am highly offended," Michelle sniffled, and walked dejectedly over to the Beamer, hunched over, pulling a tissue out of her pocket as she plodded miserably along.

"_Now_ look what you've done," Josh said, sounding both exasperated and amused.

"She's such a little kid," Jen said, shaking her head.

Orli smiled repentantly. "I'm sorry… go chase after her and pass that along. Jen and I want to be alone right now, I think."

"Ya DO," Josh exclaimed, sounding exactly like Michelle when she was surprised, but in a somewhat deeper voice.

"We DO," Orli answered, mocking him. "Goodbye."

Josh laughed as he followed Michelle. "Don't have too much fun."

Jen fell into bed that night, exhausted and hoarse. She was still pondering Orli's question of weeks before: When _had_ she become pregnant? The question was keeping her up. She could not figure it out and it was driving her crazy. But, after a while of thinking, she found that she could vaguely remember that she'd first noticed she was missing her period around the time she'd accepted the idea of singing for a career, and taken that job. Of course she'd dismissed the abnormality, thinking it was just a result of stress at the time. But now she was beginning to realize that it was more than a coincidence.

She remembered needing a pep talk from her husband because she was so scared of changing her entire life with one decision. What had he told her? _"Children can wait… I didn't think we were ready for them anyway."_ And then, of course, they'd gone and been careless, and now they were going to be parents. What else had Orli said? _"I love you, Jen… I want you to be happy."_ Was she happy now? Was this what she wanted? Jen had always believed in God, and knew that some things were just… meant to be, but was this one of them?

Still thinking about it, Jen realized more and more that she had always wanted to be a mother. She'd thought, of course, that she would marry an everyday man, settle down, help him pay the bills and maybe, when they were financially stable, have two or three children. She'd never dreamed that she would actually marry a famous actor and would never have to work if she didn't want to, or pay the bills or even worry about money.

Jen was almost asleep when she remembered something that suddenly struck her as ridiculously important. The night she'd become pregnant, she'd seen a thousand images flashing through her brain as she tried to sort through the turmoil inside, of her and Orlando, Josh and Michelle… and a sweet, innocent face, untainted by the secular worldA/N: at the very end of chapter 7 She wondered…

"Happy birthday, Jen!" Orli half-yelled in her ear a week later.

Jen groaned and rolled over in bed, still mostly asleep. "What?" she muttered.

Orli shook her. "Wake up! You're twenty-three!"

Jen chanced a look at him, even though the sunlight hurt her eyes. "I am?"

Orli rolled his eyes. "Je-en!" he cried. "Come on! I shouldn't be more excited than you are!"

"Well, what are we doing today?" Jen mumbled. "Twenty-three is special. We should do something special."

Orli smiled. "Whatever you want."

"That's a lot of choices," Jen said obstinately. "You pick."

"Jen, it's your birthday!" Orli cried, exasperated.

"Let's make a cake," Jen suggested.

"Is that all?" Orli stared, slightly confused.

"Yeah," Jen muttered, rolling over and pulling the quilt over her head. "That's all."

Orli ripped the quilt off her in one swift, fluid movement. "AH!" Jen yelled. "Too cold! Gimme back blanket!"

Orli laughed. "Get out of bed," he ordered. "Go put on a sweatshirt and you'll be nice and warm again."

Jen reached for the blanket, but Orli held it out of her reach. "No," he told her firmly, speaking as if to a dog. Jen glared, plodded over to the closet to find something warm and muttered something to the effect of, "It's _my_ birthday, and I'm stuck with the husband who won't let me sleep in. Figures."

Fully awake and shivering, Jen peered into the closet. "Heeeey," she said, sounding surprised. "Where'd the very beautiful red dress come from?"

"Happy birthday," Orli smiled.

"It's so pretty," Jen cried, already feeling like her day was complete. "And you even got a sweater to go over it since it's a bit chilly out."

"Twenty degrees," Orli clarified automatically.

"Yeah," Jen agreed.

"And I have tickets to the Matchbox 20 concert- you still like them, right?"

Jen gasped. "I _love_ them! That concert's been sold out for _months_! Where did you manage to get tickets?"

"I pulled a few strings," Orli told her with false modesty, leaning back against the bedroom wall in a cocky stance.

Jen laughed at the sight of him. "What time does it start again?"

"Seven-thirty tonight, and before that, dinner, which is admittedly cliché after all the times we've been out to dinner, but it's a classic."

Jen smiled. "Dinner and a concert… sounds perfect."

"Now, do you still want to make that cake you were talking about before?" Orli asked innocently.

Jen looked at him inquisitively. "Cake? I don't make cake."

The concert that night was packed. Jen was afraid she would seem out of place in the red dress and sweater Orli had given her, but since he was beside her in a black tux and there were VIPs there dressed equally nicely, she didn't feel so awkward. She relaxed and sang along with the music but turned down the several offers she received to go onstage and sing, although she was flattered. She leaned her head on Orli's shoulder and basked in the sheer delight of just being at a concert she'd wanted to go to so badly, and been so upset about when she learned that it had sold out three days after tickets went on sale. She had a perfect husband, she reflected contentedly.

"So, what did you think?" Orli asked on the way home, in the back of a stretch limo with slow music playing softly in the background.

"It was great," Jen told him, snuggled up against him. "Thank you so much for doing it for me."

Orli kissed the top of her head. "I wanted to make today perfect for you."

"You didn't have to," Jen protested unconvincingly. "But I'm glad you did," she added honestly.

The next day Michelle delivered a peanut butter cheesecake, a book of baby names and Jen's favorite brand name perfume to her doorstep and made only one snide comment about how she hadn't been able to deliver them the day before, since _someone_ was obviously too busy for her. From Josh there was a painting of her and Orli, drawn from one of their wedding pictures, which Michelle confided that he'd been working on for months.

Jen hung the picture over her and Orli's bed, placed the book of baby names on the night table, spritzed on some of the perfume and sat down to eat some peanut butter cheesecake. In the spirit of generosity, she offered Josh, Michelle and Orli little pieces as she cut a rather large one for herself.

All three declined.

After three hours of just sitting around talking and bouncing around ideas for last-minute Christmas presents, Josh and Michelle decided they had to go home and wrap some presents, and left.

Jen shut the door and collapsed onto the nearest sofa. "I should probably go wrap some presents, too," she said thoughtfully.

"What did you get me?" Orli asked pleasantly.

"_No_," Jen answered. "I will not tell you. No no no!"

Orli laughed. "You make it so easy to get you worked up. Do you need any help wrapping my Christmas present?"

Jen gave him a Look, custom-made for him. Orli cringed. "All right, all right. I'll just… go away," he said, sniffling loudly.

Jen shook her head at his back as he left the room.

Christmas day dawned bright and cold. A thick layer of snow covered the ground, and more fell gently from the sky. Jen smiled. Snow was such a beautiful thing.

The bell rang at ten o'clock in the morning, just as Orli was beginning to stir and Jen was sliding her feet into her old, world-weary cotton slippers. Orli muttered incoherently; the only words Jen caught were "Stupid people… stupid bell… stupid morning."

Jen shrugged and went to let in Josh and Michelle herself. Returning to the bedroom, she remembered how Orli had pulled the covers off her to make her get up on her birthday. So, she creatively decided to yank them off of him.

_That_ was poetic justice, she thought.

Once Orli had stopped yelling at Jen and located a bathrobe and slippers, he plodded out to the family room and glared at Josh and Michelle. "It's a little early, don't you think?" he demanded.

Josh looked amused. "And merry Christmas to you, too."

"Yeah, whatever," Orli muttered. Yawning, he pulled two packages from under the tree and handed one to each of them. "Happy Christmas… Leave now."

"Jen!" Michelle protested, vehemently opposed to this dismissal.

Jen smiled. "Orli, be nice," she scolded.

Orli turned his glare on her. Apparently, the fact that he had decided to marry and live with her did not mean he was going to obey her.

Jen cringed slightly. "Or you could just go back to bed while I make hot chocolate and coffee and tea for the rest of us."

"Coffee!" Orli cried, sounding awake. "I'll be good now."

Jen shook her head again and went to put the kettle on.

From Orli, Jen received four CDs, a new bathrobe (her old one was getting worn out and had holes in interesting places) and matching slippers, the earrings she had seen in a department store and fallen in love with, but hadn't been able to afford, and a special copy of _Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King_, which, Orli confided, was technically illegal, but he was special and could sweet-talk his way out of trouble if need be. From Josh there was the extended _Lord of the Rings_ four-disc DVD set she had wanted, and the necklace that matched her new earrings from Orli (Jen suspected a conspiracy there, but had no time to ponder it). From Michelle there was a photo of Jen and Orli that Jen had forgotten she'd taken. It was of the two of them on the day they celebrated the completion of one year of steady dating, and Michelle had enlarged it herself and had it framed. She also gave Jen two of the CDs Orli had not already given her.

At that point Orli and Josh exchanged a look that the girls completely missed, and Orli left. He came back moments later, bearing a small box for Jen, from him and Josh.

Jen looked puzzled. "Didn't you two already give me enough?" She glanced at Michelle, who looked back just as blankly and shook her head slightly. She had no idea either.

Jen shrugged and tore into the M&M wrapping paper. She pulled out a CD, but not one that she recognized immediately. After reading the cover, comprehension dawned.

"Hey," she whispered, awed. "I didn't know they made a CD of that Christmas concert."

Josh and Orlando smiled at each other above her head. "The two songs you sang are on there. We thought you might like it, as a memory."

Jen hugged them both, touched. "Thank you."

"There's more in there," Josh reminded her.

Jen, returning to the box, pulled out a videotape. "Let me guess… _The Christmas Angel_?"

"It has special sections about the professional dancers who were there, and you're one of them," Orli explained.

Jen was shocked, but happy. "Thank you both so much."

"Don't _cry_, Jen," Josh exclaimed as tears slipped down her cheeks.

Jen laughed. "I'm not… I'm just feeling sentimental right now."

"Oh, and there's more…" Orli slipped away again.

Jen stared up at Josh. "There's _more_?"

"The rest isn't exactly for you," Josh answered, sounding a bit sheepish.

Jen started; she'd completely forgotten about Michelle. But when she looked over, the other girl was sitting comfortably on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, a big package in her lap. Jen cocked her head at the package inquisitively.

"For you," Michelle explained. "This one is from all three of us. And you can share it with Orli."

Jen looked at her apprehensively as the package jumped and whined.

Michelle laughed, the long, genuine laugh of someone who is truly amused and enjoying herself, the sort of laugh that cannot be simulated merely by the desire to do so. "I promise you we didn't get you anything sharp, or pointy, or explosive," she gasped through her laughter.

Jen took the package away from her and opened it.

A chocolate brown puppy sat inside, looking up at her with inquisitive, dark eyes. Jen held the puppy's gaze for a moment before asking, "What kind of dog is this, and boy or girl?"

"Cocker spaniel, boy," Josh told her.

"He's so adorable," Jen gushed. "You guys do too much for me."

"Yeah, well," Michelle said, falsely modest.

Orli returned. "This is more from Josh, but since we were already giving Jen the same kind of joint present, we're saying it's from both of us," he explained as he handed a small parcel to Michelle.

She looked at him for a moment, puzzled, then shrugged. "Thank you."

"Open it before you thank us," Josh suggested, sounding slightly nervous for some incalculable reason.

Michelle obeyed. When she saw what was inside she gasped quietly. "Josh, what…?"

Josh looked down at the floor. "I hope you're not mad."

Michelle stared. "Mad?" she repeated. "No! When did you do this, and how did you manage to keep it from me?"

"You're not mad?"

"I said I'm not! I'm very grateful. Just… confused."

Josh finally looked up. "One day when you were out, I just talked to a publisher, and he said he was interested. If you don't like it," he added hastily, "that's the only copy in print, unless you want it all to be published. I just thought…"

Michelle interrupted him with a big hug that also included Orli. "You two are the best," she whispered, overwhelmed.

Jen, however, did not share the intense emotion. This was due mainly to the fact that she had clearly missed something important, and had no idea what Michelle was so happy about, or why Josh would be nervous about it, and at the rate things were going she wouldn't know for a long time. So, she interrupted. "What did I miss?"

Her three best friends broke apart and remembered that she was, after all, still present. Michelle held up her present from Josh and Orli: a small book of poetry. Jen was a bit lost for a minute or two as she looked at it and tried to figure out why it was so special. Then she realized that Michelle was the one who had written it. "Wow," she whispered.

Orli glanced over at Jen. "Hey! Do you like the puppy?"

"He's so cute!" Jen cried happily. "Who picked him out?"

"We all did," Orli said. "I decided that you liked cocker spaniels, Michelle decided the dog should be brown and Josh decided you needed a boy, for some obscure reason."

"That would be because we bought Michelle a female dog of the same variety, only in tan," Josh chimed in.

"We did, didn't we," Orli said thoughtfully.

"You did?" Michelle repeated. "Well. Today is just full of surprises."

"But they're good surprises," Jen reminded her.

"I know it," Michelle smiled. Turning to Josh and Orli, she asked plaintively, "Where's my puppy?"

Orli laughed and produced a small crate from the other side of the tree.  
Michelle looked at the dog inside for a minute. "She's adorable. Thank you so much!"

"And to think we have nothing of the kind for you," Jen added.

Michelle clearly didn't care. "We still bought them stuff. It counts."

"What did you buy?" Orli inquired mischievously.

Jen grinned, remembering. For Orli there was a bow and arrow (he complained bitterly that he didn't have any, post-_Lord of the Rings_ days) set, which alone was nice enough to constitute about three-quarters of the cost of one of the puppies, as well as new pajamas embroidered with a picture of Legolas and _LOTR_ written in gold over the shirt pocket. Josh received more art supplies (apparently he'd been running low) that would probably last him for another year, and a gift certificate to the barbershop, which made him laugh.

They all spent the whole day together, and went out to dinner at Fazoli's instead of a nice restaurant, at Jen and Michelle's insistence that their breadsticks were to die for, and midnight found them sitting around the Christmas tree with no other lights on, recounting the past, reflecting on the present and contemplating the future. Jen summed the day up perfectly with, "And we'll all live happily ever after."


	13. Chapter 13

Jen woke with a scream.  
Orli yelped, a sound akin to that which a small puppy might make upon being kicked, as he sat upright in bed, and winced as the blood rushed from his head and the room spun. He looked around wildly for a moment before locating the source of the noise. "Jen, what's wrong?" he asked frantically.  
Jen didn't appear to hear him. "Not yet… it's too soon, what are you doing? You call yourself a doctor? I want a lawyer!"  
Orli's eyebrows knitted together. "Jen?"  
She started. "What?"  
He stared at her. "What do you need a lawyer for?"  
Jen looked puzzled for a moment. Then, shaking her head, she recollected herself and wondered, still half to herself, "Did I say that aloud?" She shrugged when Orli gave her a look in response, and explained. "I had this dream… I don't remember all of it, but I was having my baby, and it was months too early. I tried to get the doctor to squish it back inside me…" Seeing Orli's face, she added, "That didn't sound quite so bad in my head," before continuing. "And I wanted a lawyer, because I was going to sue the stupid doctor…" Jen gave up trying to voice the dream as Orli gave up trying not to laugh. She shrugged, and they both went back to sleep.

New Year's Eve: In Josh, Orli and Michelle's opinion, one of the best holidays of the year.  
Jen did not agree with them on this particular point, as she was vehemently opposed to the practice of racing around looking like a slut all night and was self-conscious about showing more skin than was absolutely necessary to begin with, but they had threatened to leave her behind, whereupon Jen attempted the "I-don't-have-anything-to-wear" excuse. Michelle offered to let Jen raid her somewhat more… daring… closet, and since they were the same size, only different heights, that was the end of the argument, and Jen tromped off to find something of Michelle's to wear.  
Twenty minutes later, around eight o'clock, Jen had chosen an outfit from Michelle's closet that Michelle assured her looked fabulous: a sequined red tank top that crisscrossed across her back and ended about an inch above her belly button, along with a short denim skirt and two-inch wooden platforms with red straps, customized for the top. She borrowed Michelle's choker, a long-ago Christmas present that Jen had never been able to find an exact copy of for herself, and wore it along with her own crystal bracelet and drop earrings set with similar crystals, arranged to form flowers that shimmered every color of the rainbow when they caught the light. Michelle had opted for a sparkly green V-neck halter and a similar denim skirt with very little material, and paired it with backless, three-inch black platforms with green straps. She wore a silver heart necklace, much like Reese Witherspoon's in _Legally Blonde_, with a matching bracelet and huge hoop earrings in the shape of hearts.  
"We look very Christmas-y," was Michelle's first dry remark, in reference to the red and green tops.  
"We're beautiful," Jen asserted. "Now for makeup."  
Michelle grinned, looking slightly evil, Jen thought, and immediately wished she had said nothing about makeup. However, even she had to admit that Michelle had a great makeup collection, and they spent the next half hour mixing and matching eye shadows and blushes and lipsticks. In the end Jen was wearing black eyeliner with silver shadow, reddish blush and flesh tone lip gloss; Michelle chose the same black eyeliner and used eye shadow in chunky, glittery green, along with pink blush and red lipstick.  
"Finally," Josh grumbled when they arrived downstairs.  
Jen laughed. "I happen to believe all that time was very much worth it."  
Josh gave her a big impulsive hug. "You look stunning. Dazzling. Very attractive. Aren't you glad we talked you into coming with us?"  
Jen mumbled something and walked away, not wishing to admit that she felt gorgeous and self-confident, and also not wanting to say she was already beginning to believe she'd been wrong about New Year's Eve.  
"What about me?" she heard Michelle ask behind her. "Aren't I _attractive _too?"  
Jen didn't hear the reply, but she did have the misfortune of hearing Michelle laugh and was left to wonder just what Josh had said. She shook it off and walked into the kitchen to find Orli, wanting him to tell her how beautiful ("sexy" would have been a nice word to hear) she looked.  
After having heard Orli's reassurance that she looked absolutely fabulous, Jen refused to leave before pulling on a tan, woolen coat, and Michelle had to conduct an extensive search for her form-fitting black leather jacket, as it was more than slightly cold outside. Finally, the four of them set out to go "clubbing," as Orli called it. It made Jen slightly nervous, as she preferred to stay home and watch movies on New Year's Eve, but Orli told her firmly that there was nothing to it. All she needed was the outfit, and she would be right at home.  
Half an hour later the quartet arrived at a new club that had opened downtown. They knew they were getting close about three city blocks away when they heard music blaring. But when they got closer Jen, once her ears adjusted to the volume, had to admit that it looked like a good time.  
"So?" Orli asked once they were inside.  
"So?" Jen echoed. "Nothing's happened yet. I don't have an opinion already."  
Orli smiled. "You'll love it. You're a great dancer. You look gorgeous. You have nothing to worry about."  
He was right. Jen was getting down on that dance floor with at least four guys she didn't know (one of them, she reflected, reminded her very much of Owen Wilson, who she'd run into in Hollywood early in the summer and had fallen in love with, in her it's-not-happening alternate universe, a fact which she had chosen never to divulge to her husband, though Josh knew), and Orli looked as though he was already regretting his urging her to go out with them. Josh was nowhere to be seen, and Michelle had disappeared a long time ago, though Orli assumed they'd gone off together and were being naughty in some relatively quiet corner.  
Orli heaved a dramatic sigh, causing the drunken man next to him to glance over at him before toppling backwards off his barstool, and cut through the sea of people on the dance floor to reach_ his _wife. It wasn't easy to shove his way past Jen's admirers, but he managed it and yelled to Jen over the music, "Mind if I cut in?"  
Jen flashed him a grin, the huge disco ball above them sending patterns of light dancing across her face and illuminating her carefully (and extravagantly) applied makeup. "I'd be glad if you did," she half-screamed, straining to be heard.  
"So wasn't I right about this?" Orli called, as though they were a block away from each other.  
Jen looked away. "I can't hear you!" she shouted.  
"Wasn't I right?" Orli screamed, not understanding.  
"What?" Jen yelled.  
"Don't you think I was right about this?" he shouted.  
"The music's too loud!" Jen yelled by way of explanation.  
Orli finally understood that Jen would refuse to admit she'd been wrong. He laughed and changed his tactics. "So let's see some of those dance moves I've been watching you pull off on complete strangers… if you can hear me!" he cried mockingly.  
"Loud and clear," Jen shot back with a devilish grin.

Two hours later Jen found herself fighting off a migraine and asked if Orli was ready to leave. His response: "Where'd Josh and Michelle go? I haven't seen them since we got here."  
By luck Michelle ran up as soon as the words had passed his lips. Jen pointed. "There's one of them!"  
Breathless, Michelle asked, "Do you have any idea where Josh is?"  
Orli looked surprised. "I assumed you two were off in some corner, being very bad together."  
Michelle made a face. "On any other occasion I would laugh, except that I haven't seen him in half an hour. He said he was going to the restroom, and I told him I'd wait for him, but he didn't come back, and then I saw you…" Her voice trailed off.  
Jen frowned, puzzled but not yet alarmed. "He probably just forgot where he said he'd meet you. Or maybe he's drunk."  
Michelle snorted. "He had a sip of beer. Even you and I don't get drunk on that."  
Orli couldn't suppress a snicker. Jen and Michelle simply refused to drink, even on "special occasions." Michelle had a sip of wine each Sunday at church, and that was enough for her.  
Josh wandered up just then. "Sorry, Michelle. I ran into an old friend; I haven't seen her in years and I had a beer and I completely forgot to meet you again."  
Michelle glared. "I might not care some other time, but right now I'm going to be suspicious. _Her_?"  
A surprised Josh explained, "I went to school with her, and we dated in the tenth grade. There isn't anything more to it than that."  
Michelle shrugged and dropped it. "Are you ready to go?"  
"Go?" Josh repeated. "It's not even midnight yet."  
"Jen's getting a headache," Orli interjected. "And I think I know someplace else I'd rather be at midnight." His three friends looked at him, confused, but he just waved their questions away with a smile and headed for the door.

It took some time to just force his way out of the parking lot, but eventually Orli maneuvered into traffic and drove for some thirty minutes, down to what he later explained was ten acres of his own riverfront property along the Hudson River. His family, he said, often visited when they were in the United States, which was often enough to make the purchase worth it. He and Jen separated from Josh and Michelle in a large garden perched almost on the river. A gurgling fountain graced the center of the round garden, and rosebushes surrounded the white marble bench on which Jen and Orli sat. Lights twinkled out of the bushes, similar to the garden from _The Princess Diaries_, or so Jen thought.  
They sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for midnight, not saying anything, just holding each other close and enjoying the quiet. After a while they heard Michelle, not too far away, shout a warning: "One minute till midnight!" and then fall silent again.  
Orli shifted, and Jen with him. She gazed into his warm brown eyes and lost herself in their infinite depths, and she felt very aware of one arm across her shoulders, and the other wrapped around her back, and she suddenly realized that it was finally midnight, and somehow, _Yes I Will_, by the Backstreet Boys, was playing softly in the background. "Here's to the best year of our lives," Orli whispered before leaning in to kiss her. Jen's response was passion, and a fiery hunger for this kind of romance that she had kept pent up for months without even realizing it.  
The kiss lasted forever, or at least the only part of forever that mattered to Jen. When they broke apart, both slightly breathless, Jen murmured, "Why do you say this will be the best year of our lives?"  
"Because we're together, and we're going to be parents- wonderful parents, and we're going to have our best friends with us, and all our troubles are behind us now," he answered, sounding so certain that Jen, too, felt convinced. She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder with a happy sigh, feeling anticipation for the new year that began right there and right then.

Orli insisted that he didn't want anything big for his twenty-sixth birthday; Jen, Michelle and Josh insisted on giving him something huge. So on the evening of January thirteenth, Jen hopped behind the wheel of her Mustang, with Orli beside her despite his protests, and they headed off to a private downtown club they had booked for the night (Josh and Michelle, having been appointed to set everything up, had driven separately and left much earlier). Orli, of course, didn't know what was going on, except that he was sure it was something he didn't want to happen.  
Jen led the way inside the club, which was surprisingly quiet considering that it was, after all, a club. Orli barely had time to wonder at that before his eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lights and he realized that somehow or another, his best friends had brought together the entire _Lord of the Rings_ cast, his whole extended family (excluding the few who were deceased) and some of his old school friends who he immediately recognized despite not having seen in years, along with Heath Ledger from _Ned Kelly_, which, after long hours of Orli and Heath having to reshoot scenes the directors of the movie didn't approve of, a time-consuming process that was still in the works, would be coming out later that year (Orli wasn't looking forward to Jen dragging him to the movies to watch himself act, as he knew would happen). Orli blinked a few times, trying to convince himself that he wasn't hallucinating. He hadn't expected to ever see the whole _Lord of the Rings_ cast in the same place at the same time again, except for possible reshoots for the last movie. In a cheesy rendition of every surprise party, they had all jumped out and yelled "Surprise!" when the door opened to admit Jen and Orli, and he had consequently jumped approximately six inches higher than he knew he was capable of. Later, when everyone had finished laughing and he had realized who was there and just what was happening, he berated himself for not expecting it.  
In the meantime, Jen was behind him, smiling, obviously pleased with herself. "You like?" she asked, borrowing one of Michelle's favorite phrases.  
"I love," he responded enthusiastically, "but you really didn't have to go to all this trouble."  
Jen's brow furrowed. "And if I did have to, I wouldn't have wanted to." She gave him a small shove. "Go mingle; look for me later. I think I'm going to go talk to your friend Dominic… if you'd like to introduce us." The smile she sent Orli's way was just a little too sweet and innocent.  
Orli laughed. "I guess I'll just have to trust that you won't be cheating on me on _my birthday_," he emphasized, a smile dancing its way across his lips.  
"Never," Jen assured him, linking her arm through his and marching deliberately in Dominic Monaghan's general direction. Orli shook his head, amused, and lagged behind her.  
With Jen and Dominic chatting away (Jen, having conquered her adolescent shyness, was doing quite a bit of the talking, although Dominic definitely looked interested), Orli walked over to talk to Elijah Wood and Billy Boyd, who were currently engaged in conversation with Michelle.  
Orli looked around, noting the huge box behind the counter at the bar and absently wondering if there was a big birthday cake inside. He observed a large case of beers and very much hoped they were there for the party. He also saw streamers hanging from the ceilings and banisters of the staircase to the second floor, which was usually reserved for small private parties. Never having reserved an upstairs room in such a club, Orli wondered just what was up there that was so special. He'd heard that they often had expensive, velvety loveseats, private rooms and soundproof walls for a quiet atmosphere, and were supposedly romantic getaways for lovesick couples that grew tired of loud music and perverted people pursuing them on the dance floor. Relaxing a little, he admitted, only to himself, that he was glad his friends had given him this party.  
All in all the party was Orli's idea of a good time. Eventually music blared out of unseen speakers, and most of those present being actors to some degree at least, nobody had a problem getting out on the dance floor. The huge box behind the counter at the bar did indeed contain Orli's birthday cake, one of Michelle's most extravagant creations, and it tasted delicious, as everyone agreed, and the beer was, as Orli had so hoped, for the occasion. Orli spent nearly four hours catching up with his friends from former movies and had to confess to Jen that he enjoyed himself immensely, upon which she gave him a smug "I-told-you-so" sort of look. Orli didn't even mind.  
Finally the party ended. Orli regretfully said good-bye to everyone, and with many promises of keeping in touch and in a flurry of hugs and handshakes, the guests left.  
Michelle bent over to pick up an empty beer bottle, muttered something about "uncivilized… ungrateful…" people, and winced as she stood up. Michelle had mild back problems, the permanent consequence of toting around too much weight in her backpack when she was still in high school. Orli moved to help, but she shook her head. "What kind of a horrible person would I be if I let you clean up after your own birthday party?" she argued, so Orli shrugged and went to help Josh and Jen, who gave him similar variations of the same response. With a resigned sigh he sat down and watched his friends clean up, and after a while he even began to enjoy the luxury of not working and felt slightly smug.  
At last Michelle stood and stretched. "I think this place is clean now."  
"Why didn't you just hire someone to do that for you?" Orli asked.  
Michelle shrugged. "We can do it. Why pay some slick lady with a broom and ammonia two hundred bucks so we don't have to?"  
Orli nodded wisely, as though they commonly spared expense whenever possibly.  
"Michelle, we're leaving!" Josh called from across the club.  
Orli stood up and gave Michelle a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. She returned the friendly kiss. "Happy birthday," she said with a smile. "Tell me, are you glad we did something for you?"  
Orli deliberately looked away, but gave up the façade after a moment and broke into a genuine grin. "Thank you," he said simply.  
"Michelle!" Josh cried, impatient.  
Michelle blinked, looking amused. "I think I should go."  
"Are you leaving without us?" Orli questioned.  
Michelle smiled strangely. "Your party's not over yet." She turned quickly and walked away before Orli could ask what she meant. Orli watched her exit with Josh, both of them laughing and Josh sending a furtive look over his shoulder as they went.  
Only Jen and Orli remained. Orli sent a glance her way, puzzled. "What did Michelle mean, my party's not over yet?" he asked, even as he was beginning to understand.  
Jen smiled. "We're going to find out what's upstairs."  
Orli was still mildly confused. "Are we allowed to do that?"  
"Not exactly," Jen explained, "but we have the club booked until one in the morning, and it's barely eleven. The door up there isn't locked, so we're going to assume it's fine."  
They ascended the stairs, tiptoeing exaggeratedly to be sure they weren't heard, just in case they were breaking the law after all. It was quiet upstairs, and dark until, after a moment of fumbling, Jen located the light switch on the sidewall.  
It wasn't a private room, but it was obviously, for the time being, empty. Orli allowed himself to sit down on the red velvet couch, but jumped up suddenly as music began to play and the lights dimmed to offer very little illumination. Jen looked just as puzzled as he felt, but smiled as she recognized the song and immediately understood that someone, or perhaps two someones, had prepared this for them.

_Dancin' in the dark, middle of the night  
Takin' your heart, and holdin' it tight  
Emotional touch, touchin' my skin  
And askin' you to do, what you've been doin' all over again  
Oh, it's a beautiful thing  
Don't think I can keep it all in  
I just gotta let you know  
What it is that won't let me go_

Orli bowed formally to Jen and offered his hand. "May I have this dance?"  
Jen smiled in sweet submission and nodded her assent. Orli took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it softly, gazing into her eyes. Then he pulled her into the middle of the room; the furniture had previously been swept against the walls to make room for this very purpose.  
His right hand interlaced with her left, his other hand on her waist and hers resting lightly on his shoulder, they danced. The danced in the dark, at that magical hour called midnight, and held each other tight, and it was beautiful.

_It's your love  
It just does somethin' to me  
It sends a shock right through me  
I can't get enough  
And if you wonder  
About the spell I'm under  
It's your love_

"Orli," Jen whispered, and he looked down. She brought her mouth to his and kissed him. "Happy birthday," she finished.  
He looked at her and smiled. "You're the best gift anyone could ever give me."  
She smiled too, white teeth flashing in the dark, and her only response was to step a little closer to him, hold his hand a little more tightly, wrap her arm a little further around his neck, and she felt him pull her nearer, and the pressure on her own hand increased, and his arm further encircled her waist.

_Better than I was, more than I am  
And all of this happened, by takin' your hand  
And who I am now, is who I wanted to be  
And now that we're together  
I'm stronger than ever, I'm happy and free  
Oh, it's a beautiful thing  
Don't think I can keep it all in, no  
And if you asked me why I changed  
All I gotta do is say your sweet name_

Jen sighed, lost in the moment. A minute or a thousand passed; it made no difference. She wasn't seeing the room around her anymore, but remembering the first time she had heard this song, before she ever met Orlando, when she was still dreaming about him and imagining herself singing to him and asking him for a dance, singing to him this very song and asking him for this very dance.  
Orli's eyes looked inwards also; he saw himself first meeting Jen, saw her when they celebrated his birthday together for the first time, just two years ago, and she had bought him a box of chocolates and a balloon with a teddy bear holding a sign that said "Happy Birthday" (Orli loved teddies) and she had started crying for no reason (it was that time of the month), and he had laughed and told her he loved her for the first time. And he hadn't meant to say the words; they had just slipped out, but they rang true, because he did love her and suddenly knew that was one of the only things in his life he was sure of.

_It's your love  
It just does somethin' to me  
It sends a shock right through me  
I can't get enough  
And if you wonder  
About the spell I'm under  
It's your love_

They both shook themselves back to the present and grinned foolishly at each other in the dark. Jen found herself singing softly with the music: "If you wonder… about the spell I'm under… It's your love." She looked up. "This is a perfect song."  
And Orli had to agree. It sang of his love for his wife better than his bumbling words ever could. He tried singing with her, but they both were hard pressed not to laugh at his scratchy voice, especially as he wasn't sure of the words. Jen suppressed a snicker and leaned her head against his chest. "Don't sing," she murmured, unable to stop herself saying it. "Talk to me."  
"What do you want me to say?" he asked.  
"All I want is to hear your voice."

_Oh, baby  
Oh, it's a beautiful thing  
Don't think I can keep it all in  
I just gotta let you know  
What it is that won't let me go_

So Orli talked. He told her how wonderful she was, and what a beautiful, perfect, God-sent creation he thought her to be, and he spoke of her many talents and that sweet inner beauty that so many others he'd met were in want of, and how fast he'd fallen for her, and how afraid he was of love at first, before he learned he didn't have to be scared when he was with her.

_It's your love  
It just does somethin' to me  
It sends a shock right through me  
I can't get enough  
And if you wonder  
About the spell I'm under  
It's your love  
It's your love  
It's your love_

As the song ended they held each other still, held each other tight and wouldn't let go. Because they were under a spell, a spell called Love, and neither had any desire to break it.  
They fell back onto the loveseat, hands still laced together. Jen leaned her head on his shoulder, and they talked.  
They talked about Orli's party, and his old friends and how much he had enjoyed seeing them again. He thanked her for going all out for him even as he protested that she shouldn't have once again; she laughed and put a finger to his lips. "I won't apologize for trying to do something special unless you didn't enjoy yourself," she told him firmly, and he grinned and assured her there was no need to request forgiveness.  
Orli, in a sudden change of mood, reached over and placed a hand on Jen's stomach. She was finally beginning to display the fact that she was pregnant after nearly four months (exercise had prevented immediate signs of this but could no longer hide it) and had reluctantly gone shopping for maternity clothes the week before. She'd come home with a frilly pink top, which displeased her greatly, and elastic-waisted denim jeans that she complained were "huge." At least she was beginning to accept the fact that her dancing career would have to be put on hold until after the baby was born, and in the meantime she could still sing. Thinking all of this, Orlando smiled, a genuine, delighted smile, and told her, as though in the middle of a conversation they'd been carrying on all along, "Plus, we're going to be parents… Life can't get any better."  
And for the first time, thinking about this, Jen felt no nervousness, and beamed happily.

"Valentine's Day is next week," Jen commented over lunch at La Maria one day a few weeks later, trying to sound nonchalant and disinterested. She was wearing the "huge" denim jeans and frilly pink top that she had so despised upon their purchase but was growing accustomed to.  
Orli glanced up from his taco and cheese puff. "I'm aware," he responded, face impassive. "Rabbit food," he added in a mutter, glancing at her low-fat salad with its low-fat dressing.  
Jen chose to ignore the last comment and instead acknowledged the first, her face brightening visibly. "Did you get me something?"  
Orli looked puzzled. "Was I supposed to?" He gave her his best pout. "I thought I was enough for you."  
"Only on my best days," Jen laughed.  
Orli looked hurt. She reached out and covered his hand with her smaller one. "I'm just kidding."  
"I know," he smiled. After a brief silence, he asked, "So does this mean I'm enough?"  
Jen sighed melodramatically. "You'll do."  
They both laughed (actually, Jen giggled while Orli laughed, a somewhat deeper sound).  
"So I'm going to the doctor's next week," Jen decided to mention just then.  
"What for?" Orli asked, interested.  
"Just to check up, and probably do an ultrasound," Jen answered. "It's on Thursday."  
Orli looked disappointed. "I can't be there! Look at how I'm starting my career as a parent!"  
Jen looked upset too. "Why not?"  
"They're making us do something or another with _Ned Kelly_," Orli explained. "Nobody's told me what, and that's the only day they can do it."  
Jen pulled a sad face. "I'm so sorry," he told her, and he was. So Jen tried to smile for him, and said, "Don't worry, I'll go with Josh and Michelle, and we'll buy a tape of the ultrasound and get a big huge television to watch it on so it'll be just like you were there."  
Orli didn't look convinced. "I can't believe that the one day I have something to do is the one day I also have something so much more important to do, and I can't reschedule."  
"I promise I will tell you all about it," Jen swore. Then, trying to lighten the mood, she added, "So, about Valentine's Day…" and Orli had to laugh.

Jen made Josh and Michelle go with her to the hospital downtown, although they were more than willing. The doctor explained the procedure and spread some cold gel over Jen's stomach, then ran a metal instrument over the area as they watched the images unfold in black and white on a small television screen.  
The doctor (her name tag read Neelson) was chatty. She told Jen about her first child, when she was a teenager, and how she'd given the baby away because her boyfriend transferred schools and refused to have anything to do with her, and how much it hurt, and how glad she was for Jen, and how she'd since married and had a four-year-old girl named Alexis, who called herself "Lexi," sucked her thumb and constantly talked in third person. Jen smiled and, in turn, confided in Dr. Neelson about her fears and uncertainties, and how loving and supportive her husband had been for her, and how glad she was that she was finally going to be a mother, and how long she'd waited for this to happen.  
Dr. Neelson glanced up at Josh and Michelle, who were standing silently, holding hands and watching the screen. "Do you have kids yet?"  
Michelle looked sad. "Not yet." She glanced at Josh, and there was meaning in that brief look, but Jen couldn't decipher it. Josh obviously knew what Michelle was getting at and gave her his own pointed look. Michelle sighed and looked back at the screen. "Actually," Josh contributed, "we're not sure we want kids just yet." He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We're going to let Jen be our guinea pig," he laughed. Jen made a face but took it in stride and found herself grinning too. She returned her attention to the television.  
The good doctor did likewise, casually. Then she suddenly did a double take, looking puzzled. She stared hard at the screen; Jen felt her heart skip a beat in dreadful anticipation. "What's wrong?" she asked anxiously as Michelle tightened her grip on Josh's hand.  
"Nothing!" Dr. Neelson cried. "I'm sorry, nothing's wrong. We just… we usually notice this before the fourth month of pregnancy."  
Jen frowned, more confused than not. "Notice what?" she questioned, still not convinced that she shouldn't be worrying.  
"Well," Dr. Neelson began, pointing out some blurred images on the television. "Right here, that tells us…"

Jen fell into bed, exhausted. She'd spent nearly an hour more at the hospital, talking to the doctor and purchasing a copy of the ultrasound on DVD, to give to Orli tomorrow, which had been a bit of a problem since most normal people had to order the tape and wait several weeks. However, Josh, determined that Jen not be considered normal, had pulled a few strings and given a few autographs, so Jen walked out with the DVD, gift wrapped specially in pink paper with red hearts and a big, poufy ribbon on top, for her to present to her husband. Afterwards Josh and Michelle had insisted on taking her out for dinner at Le Cirque. She couldn't help asking them why they had been so awkward when Dr. Neelson asked if they had kids, and reluctantly they told her something they had planned to keep to themselves for as long as possible ("You're supposed to be an actor, Josh," Michelle scolded, as though she were completely blameless in the matter. "Couldn't you pretend nothing was wrong?")  
"I'm… not sure I'm really ready for kids," Josh confessed, "but that's only part of the problem."  
Jen waited. When he saw that she wasn't going to comment, he continued. "We're also having some… problems."  
That peaked Jen's interest. "What kind of problems?"  
Josh looked at Michelle. They argued with their eyes for a moment, and then Michelle spoke. "Problems of the fertility nature," she stated, rather matter-of-factly.  
Jen's eyes widened. "_What_?"  
Josh looked faintly embarrassed as he once again took over the narrative. "We decided, awhile back, that we were ready to start a family, but after some time we realized something was wrong, so we went to see a doctor about it. And…" His voice trailed off; he didn't have to finish.  
Jen looked puzzled. "So whose fault is that, yours or Michelle's?"  
Neither of them answered. "It doesn't matter," Michelle said at last. "The fact remains."  
Jen sighed, but knew better than to push such a delicate issue. She tactfully, or so she thought, changed the subject. "So can you believe what Dr. Neelson said?" she exclaimed. Though it wasn't appropriate for the moment, as Jen realized later, it had turned the tide of the conversation, and it had effectively driven Josh and Michelle's problems from her mind, whatever it had done for them.  
It was possibly the last thing Jen had expected, but as Michelle had said, it was some kind of a miracle, and Jen would gladly accept this one. Dr. Neelson's report had driven Michelle to declare that it was a cause for celebration, so they had tromped off to dinner, even though Orli was working late and couldn't be there. ("I'll tell him all about it tomorrow," Jen had decided. "It'll probably be the best Valentine's Day gift I can give him," and her friends had agreed.)  
Jen was reflecting upon all this as she tried to close her eyes and fall asleep that night. She was physically worn out, but her mind was buzzing and would not allow her rest. She couldn't help wishing Orli were there, so she could talk to him; at that moment she hated being alone more than anything. But Orli had called with an apology, saying he would be home hours later than he'd originally thought, due to his having to shoot several nighttime scenes, and that there was no need to worry. As an afterthought, he'd asked how the ultrasound had gone.  
"Great," Jen had begun, "and you'll never guess what the doctor said." She'd planned to wait until tomorrow to tell him, of course, but she found that she was just too excited and was afraid she would explode if she kept her news to herself any longer.  
Orli turned away from the phone. "Give me a minute!" he called to someone over his shoulder. "What did you say?" he'd asked, returning his attention to Jen.  
"You'll never guess what Dr. Neelson said," Jen repeated, heart beating wildly as she wondered at his reaction.  
"Dr. Neelson?" Orli repeated, puzzled and, in his confusion, completely skimming over the more important message in Jen's words. "Who's Dr. Neelson?"  
"The doctor who did my ultrasound!" Jen cried, slightly exasperated. "And you won't believe…"  
"I'm _coming_!" he yelled, trying to cover the phone, but Jen still heard him, and he sounded as though he was in a hurry. "Jen, I'm so sorry. I really have to go. Glad things went well. They want us to shoot some night scenes, so I won't be home till maybe two or three. I know, I said I'd be home by eleven, and I really wish they'd let us off. I love you! Bye."  
"Bye-" Jen had started to say, and then heard that final click as Orli hung up. She'd stared at the phone in bewilderment for a moment before slowly hanging up. She stood frozen with her hand on the phone for a full minute, wishing her husband could be around more, and have more time for her. Coming to her senses, she'd shaken her practical head and told herself it was just as well; she'd planned to tell him all about her trip to the hospital when they exchanged Valentine's Day gifts.  
She tossed and turned for a while, alone in the king-size bed, until she at last fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Valentine's Day was bitterly cold, and to everyone's mild surprise it had snowed overnight, something the weather forecaster had not previously informed them of. Jen shrugged into a pink sweater, a color she despised because she thought it did nothing for her skin (a fraction of the reason why she hated her frilly pink maternity wear), and shoved her feet into the deep red slippers she'd received from Orli for Christmas, smiling as the velvety material made contact with her skin. She walked over to the window and gazed outside, admiring the picturesque view. Though Jen grew cold easily, she found it more than worth the slight discomfort to see the glittering white snow covering the pine trees, and admire the way it lay, yet untrodden, on the ground.  
She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around to find Orli smiling at her. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked by way of a good morning, and gave her a kiss.  
She stood up taller to receive the kiss. "Happy Valentine's Day!"  
"So, about that present you were asking me about…" Orli began.  
Jen immediately lost interest in further kissing. "Where is it?" she demanded playfully.  
"Well," he started. "Some of it's outside in the kitchen…"  
Jen trotted off to see without waiting for any further explanation, and Orli was left with no choice but to follow, shaking his head in exasperated amusement.  
Jen walked outside the room and was greeted with dozens of dark red roses, set upon each and every table, counter and various end tables. She blinked in surprise even as she inhaled the sweet scent. "A dozen for every year we've been together, and a dozen for our baby, and a few dozen more just for fun," Orli explained.  
Jen laughed. "I had no idea you were capable of artfully arranging roses, any more than I knew we had so many vases to put them in."  
Orli looked sheepish. "I bought half of those vases, actually, and I enlisted some help in the arrangement," he admitted, apparently providing Jen with further reason to laugh.  
When she'd regained control of herself, Jen rushed over to the table and proudly pointed out Orli's spot, where she'd laid the tape of the ultrasound. "This is for you," she declared happily, and Orli, puzzled, tore away the paper. He grinned when he saw the tape. "Is this what I think it is?"  
"I couldn't say," Jen responded, attempting to be mysterious. "What do you think it is?"  
"Did you get a tape of your ultrasound?" he asked, sounding excited.  
"I sure did," Jen replied, still determined to keep her tone casual and trying not to betray the little bubble of happiness rising inside her.  
"Let's watch it!" Orli cried, his eyes lighting up as though he were a six-year-old at the candy store. He raced towards the television, and then suddenly stopped, did an about-face, and ran into the bedroom. Jen stared after him.  
He sprinted out a minute later, carrying a department store bag. From the bag he produced a fairly small, hastily wrapped parcel and a very small, thin one. Jen reached slowly for the thin, neatly wrapped one, wondering what could possibly be inside.  
She tore away the paper, a true chore since there was too much tape over it, and immediately knew who had wrapped it. From within the paper she produced a folder with yellow rubber duckies all over it and gave over a moment for admiration of the design. Upon opening it, she discovered lyrics for four different songs, co-written by all three of her friends (she'd had no idea Josh and Orli could write). She gazed at the words for a moment and decided they were definitely worth writing music for.  
After she'd given her approval to the song lyrics, she turned her attention to the other package. Studying it for a moment, she first noted that it looked like jewelry, and then realized that the wrapping job was messy and used little tape, so she knew this one was only from Orli. Jen pulled away the wrapping paper easily to reveal a small gold box. Holding her breath for some incomprehensible reason, she slowly opened the box and found, nestled on a cushion of cotton, a gold ring.  
But it wasn't just any gold ring. A diamond heart sparkled in the middle of the band, and on either side of it were engraved the names "ORLI" and "JENN." A plus sign in ruby red glittered in the middle of the heart, such that, in effect, the ring read, "ORLI PLUS JENN," much as teenagers might carve on a tree with soft bark. Jen slowly rotated the ring, admiring it from every angle, and noticed that written on the back were the words, "JUNE 21, 2002"- their wedding date.  
Jen smiled up at Orli and decided he deserved a big kiss, so she gave him several before turning back to the ring to slide it onto her middle finger, next to her wedding band. It didn't surprise her that it fit perfectly.  
"I have one more surprise," Orli announced when she stopped gazing at her new ring.  
Jen started. "There's_ more_?"  
Orli explained, "I didn't want to tell you then, but I stayed on the set so late last night because we were almost finished filming, and I begged them to just get the rest over with while we were there. I also nearly had to get down on bended knee to ask for an uncut tape for you, for today." He held up a DVD case. "Here it is, bloopers and deleted scenes and all."  
Jen gasped with delight. "We can watch it tonight!"  
Orli's eyes widened. "We? You're going to make me watch myself attempt to act?"  
"Oh, get over it," Jen ordered. "You know you're a great actor."  
Orli frowned.  
Jen clapped her hands together. "Now for my surprises! We'll get to the ultrasound later. But there's something else I want to give you first. I didn't get you near as much as you got me," she added, sounding slightly upset. "But I hope you like it anyway."  
After his reassurance that he would love anything if it came from her, Jen left and came back carrying a thin, square package. Orli took one look at it and was convinced that it was a CD, or possibly two. He wondered absently if she'd bought him _The Two Towers_ soundtrack, something he'd been begging her for, having a passion for any music that helped make his movies successful.  
Orli tore into the paper, just as Jen had with his gifts, and discovered on top the soundtrack he'd asked for, complete with a trading card of Legolas. He glared up at Jen, who was beaming, and told her sarcastically, "I'll cherish this one always."  
Jen's eyes grew huge. "Don't you like the CD? You were begging for it last week."  
Orli smiled and shook his head. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."  
"I couldn't resist." She couldn't ward off a grin, either.  
Laying that aside, he found underneath a generic CD with no label or title. He looked up, puzzled.  
Jen smiled sheepishly. "I asked the studio to let me record some of my favorite slow songs and put them on a CD for you."  
Orli pulled her into a tight hug. "What's on it?"  
Jen's response was muffled, as she was pressed up against his shirt. She pulled back, though his arms still encircled her, and stared at the floor as she answered, "_To Love You More_ from Celine Dion,_ It's Your Love_, _The Greatest Gift_, _A Moment Like This_, even though I can't stand Kelly Clarkson, _Something Worth Leaving Behind_ from Leeann Womack, although that isn't really a love song…" Her voice trailed off. "I made a list; it's… somewhere."  
Orli laughed. "Somewhere. That's a start." He pulled her back into his warm embrace. "Thank you. I know I'll love it." He smiled slyly and added, "I don't want to go out to dinner tonight. I was thinking maybe we could find someone who'll make us something special and bring it to us, so maybe we could listen to your songs while we eat."  
Jen gasped in visible alarm. "I don't want to listen to myself singing!"  
Orli, prepared for her response, merely responded, "Tell you what. If I get to listen to you singing while I eat my Valentine's dinner, I'll watch myself in _Ned Kelly_ with you later."  
"Fair enough," Jen half-laughed, half-grumbled, a unique tone of voice she had practiced to perfection. "Who exactly is going to bring us dinner?"  
"A good friend of mine from a restaurant downtown. He told me we could call and order whatever we wanted, and he'll have it to us whenever we ask. Sound good?"  
"Sounds perfect," Jen smiled. "So… I guess we can just hang around for awhile."  
Her husband looked mildly upset. "What are we going to do with ourselves?"  
"We can do nothing…" Jen began. "But I think there's something you wanted to see."  
Orli brightened visibly. "Can we watch the ultrasound now?" he begged. "I want to see my little unborn baby."  
Jen, having been waiting for exactly this response, walked without comment into the living room and popped the tape into the VCR. Dr. Neelson had recorded herself explaining the images and meshed it with the tape, so that Jen found herself saying little as Orli watched, mesmerized. But there was one part Jen had requested that Dr. Neelson leave out and allow her to explain to her husband.  
When that part came, Jen sprang up from her seat on the couch and walked proudly over to point out the very same images Dr. Neelson had elucidated for her only the day before. But before she could get a word out, Orli frowned. "Does this baby of ours have two heads?"  
Jennifer smiled. "I tried to tell you last night, but you didn't have time."  
Orli waited, rather impatiently, for her to get the words out.  
"See, Orli, we're not going to have a baby."  
Orli stared. It had been a late night, and though he was happy and felt wide-awake, his mind was not functioning properly just yet. "Then what are we going to have, a cabbage?"  
Jen almost laughed. "Not exactly."  
"Stop milking it!" Orli yelled. "I can't think straight; would you just_ tell _me?"  
"We're not going to have a baby," Jen repeated. "We're going to have babies."  
Orli blinked. "Twins?"  
"Twins."


	14. Chapter 14

"I like Micah," Orli disagreed. He and Jen had been arguing about baby names for the past half hour. Josh was attempting to be a part of the discussion (Orli couldn't understand why, but Jen had a feeling it was because he was afraid he would never have a baby of his own to name), and Michelle was reading the daily newspaper. All four of them were gathered in the parlor at Josh and Michelle's, having had lunch out together. It was mid-March, and they hadn't seen much of each other in awhile; Josh had recently made known that he was filming two new movies, and Michelle had conquered a bout of writer's block and rarely had free time for anything. Out of the blue, Orli had announced earlier that day that he was treating everyone to lunch, since he missed Josh and Michelle so much (it was difficult to be sure whether he was being sarcastic, but he appeared sincere). He was finished with his own filming for a while, so mostly he'd spent time with Jen for the last month, and they'd definitely enjoyed being alone, for the most part.  
"Micah for what?" Jen snapped at Orli now. "A boy or a girl?" Apparently the two had spent a bit too much time together; they'd been uptight and snappish for the greater part of the past week.  
"What about your idea for Ryan? I think that was _supposed _to be a name for a girl!" Orli exclaimed.  
Jen threw up her hands and gave him a disgusted look, unable to come up with a clever answer. "Fine! So it doesn't have to be Ryan. We'll eliminate that, so long as we eliminate Micah, too."  
Orli opened his mouth in protest. "What's wrong with Micah? It's _sweet_."  
Jen glared. The comment clearly struck her as too ridiculous for words. "Well, what do you think about Aimee? Or Leigh?"  
"Too plain," Orli responded dispassionately. "I think a two-syllable name would sound better anyway, with the last name Bloom."  
Jen grabbed her hair with both hands, seemingly intending to pull it out by the roots. "Aimee is a two-syllable name," she yelled, then gave it up. "Then what do you suggest?" she cried. "Aside from Micah."  
"I think Jason would be pretty good," Josh put in.  
"Jason's not bad," Jen said thoughtfully, but Orli frowned.  
"What are our other options?" he asked.  
"What's wrong with Jason?" Josh asked, sounding offended and quite ready to start the same argument over again.  
Michelle turned a page in her newspaper.  
"Jason's not bad," Orli tried to explain, echoing Jen without even realizing it. At last they had agreed on something, but were too busy disagreeing about everything else to notice. "I'd just like to see what else we come up with."  
"We're not even deciding anything yet," Jen nearly yelled. "We're just _discussing_."  
"Pretty violent discussion," Michelle murmured. Mostly absorbed in her paper, she was only half-listening. Nobody heard her.  
"We need two names of each," Orli declared. "We don't know if we'll have two girls, or two boys, or one of each."  
Jen gave him a look. "Thank you, Captain Obvious!"  
"I'm just thinking aloud," he protested.  
Jen closed her eyes, trying to contain her frustration. Nobody was quite sure how the conversation had gotten so out of hand, but all three of them were getting angry for seemingly no good reason. It wasn't even something they had to worry about just yet, but it was apparently quite a touchy topic for everyone involved, except Michelle, who simply turned another page.  
"Hey," she said mildly, doing a double take. "We seem to be at war."  
Orli looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "Do you really think this is that bad?" he inquired.  
Michelle finally looked up. "You idiot," she cried, exasperated. "Are you _living_ under a _rock_? This whole country is about to be at war. The president's making some speech tonight, and we're probably going to be invading Iraq within the next few days."  
"Oh, that," Orli responded dismissively. "I have bigger problems."  
Michelle raised an eyebrow of her own. "And you're handling them so well. Can I ask why you're all so upset over names for babies that won't be born for months?"  
Josh, Orli and Jen all stared blankly, each trying to come up with a reason that would both satisfy Michelle and make the other two seem like the ones in the wrong. Finally, Michelle threw down the newspaper and announced, "You people are giving me a migraine. I'm going to lie down someplace _quiet._"  
Apparently, Michelle's idea of a quiet place was the toilet. She sighed. "I guess the flu's going around." Frowning, she slipped into the master bedroom and slid into bed.  
Josh, Jen and Orli resumed their argument.  
"How about Kelly?" Jen asked.  
"Why are you so convinced we'll have a girl?" Orli responded, at the end of his temper. "Let's come up with some boys' names too."  
Jen threw herself into the nearest chair (luckily it was cushioned) and heaved a melodramatic sigh. "I'm just trying to think here!"  
"I like Brian, or Justin," Orli suggested, ignoring her. "They both sound catchy with Bloom. Brian Bloom, Justin Bloom…"  
"We get it, Orlando," Josh interrupted in the middle of his speculations. "You can stop now. No one's actually listening to you."  
"I like Brian," Jen contributed quietly, but Orli had already jumped on Josh's remark. "Why do you think you're going to be the one who picks names for our babies?" he demanded. "What makes you think that you can come in here and act like these are _your_ babies?"  
Jen winced, afraid of what Josh might say in response. But he merely looked hurt, and answered quietly, "I just wanted to be here. I don't want to miss anything."  
Orli's look softened, and he voiced Michelle's question of earlier. "What are we so angry about?"  
Jen ran her fingers through her hair. She'd finally come up with a partial answer. "We don't want to mess up. We want to do everything perfectly, because we don't want any regrets. And we're scared- we thought we wouldn't be able to handle one baby, and now we're going to have two. And I feel them kicking inside me… and I'm thinking, there's _life _inside me, that's not my own. And when they're born, they'll be tiny and weak and defenseless, and we want them to have perfect lives." She shrugged. "So, we're tense."  
It was a pretty good explanation, and it rendered the others speechless for a moment. At last Josh spoke. "This is completely off-topic, but something I have to say that I wanted to get out of the way." He took a deep breath, and his serious demeanor captured Jen and Orli's attention. "I checked up on Rachael Leigh Cook, and… she seems to be insane."  
Jen stared. "_That's _your big news? I think we knew that."  
"No," Josh amended, "clinically insane. She's in one of those hospitals right now, going through some sort of rehab. They let me talk to her; she's just downtown."  
"So…" Orli prodded.  
"So, she didn't have much to say. She seemed pretty angry that I'd even found her out in the first place, which I guess is to be expected. But she said all she ever wanted was someone to be with her. That she was crazy is what made her go to extremes to try and get somebody."  
Jen picked up a magazine off the end table; something on the cover had caught her eye. "Oh dear," she commented, flipping to page 78.  
Orli glanced up. "What?"  
Wordlessly, she handed him the magazine. Orli looked at it briefly and made the same comment, before handing it to Josh. His eyes widened in shock as he read it.

_Actor Josh Hartnett was seen last month at a downtown hospital in New York City, with best friend Orlando Bloom's wife, Jennifer. The two were spotted in the maternity ward. Hospital records specify an ultrasound indicating that Mrs. Bloom is roughly, at present, twenty-six weeks pregnant with twins. Naturally, people may wonder why Mr. Bloom was not present with his wife, and why Josh Hartnett, husband of writer and actress Michelle Hartnett (who was nowhere to be seen) was there instead. Research into the matter suggests that the two may have had a love affair, and Mrs. Bloom is mothering the children of her husband's best friend. Whether Mr. Bloom or Mrs. Hartnett is aware of this remains to be seen._

There was more, but it was mostly about their personal lives, which apparently were less than private. Josh blinked several times after reading, before questioning, "Why do they say Michelle wasn't there? She was with us."  
Orli shrugged, disgusted. "They probably knew that. It makes it more dramatic if they say it was just you two alone together. And doubtful anyone will know any other way." He groaned. "This is nice. At least it doesn't seem to be world news yet."  
"I think _yet_ may be the operative word there," Jen remarked. She ran her fingers through her hair, distracted. "Are there pictures in there?"  
Josh marked the page number with his finger and flipped to the front cover of the magazine before responding. "We are never buying _Cosmopolitan _again. Piece of-" He let the sentence hang before flipping back to the offending article and handing it to Jen.  
"We look cute together," Jen declared cheerfully as she looked at the picture showing her and Josh, at a sideways angle to the camera, smiling at each other. As best as Jen could recall, Michelle had disappeared briefly to grab something to drink in the cafeteria downstairs, and they had been talking about the ultrasound, and Dr. Neelson's surprise news. Of course they'd been smiling at each other like that! Somehow they hadn't noticed the camera at that moment.  
Orli looked at her suspiciously. "You don't seem all that upset."  
Jen shrugged. "They'll get over it. It's just an exciting bit of gossip for them. Besides, we know it's not true. Josh and Michelle can't even-" She cut herself off, aware that she'd said too much, but it was too late. Josh was glaring at her and Orli looked confused. Jen looked down at the floor. "Sorry," she muttered, embarrassed.  
"What…" Orli asked softly. "I think I missed something."  
Jen said nothing; she'd already said too much. With a sigh Josh stared up at the ceiling as though he found it fascinating and explained, "Michelle and I seem to be having… problems getting pregnant. We might have fixed it, but… we don't know, and after this long we're not feeling so optimistic."  
Orli's brow furrowed. "Who's having problems, you or Michelle?"  
Josh shrugged and stared off into space, apparently tired of the ceiling. Orli was wise enough to let it go but couldn't think of anything to say to turn the tide of the conversation.  
They sat that way for a while, silently, each lost in thought. The ringing telephone shattered the silence, but just as Josh placed his hand on the receiver, it stopped. Michelle had picked it up in the other room. After a few minutes she tottered outside, looking unsteady and very much like she wanted to be back in bed.  
"My mother's dad slipped and fell in the shower," she announced. "They think he might have fractured his ankle. I'm going to Jersey to be with my Nana." Her normally sparkling green eyes, at present dark and opened to their full extent, looked huge and out of place in her pale face.  
Josh got up. "I'm coming with you. You can't drive anywhere, you're sick."  
Michelle shrugged. "I just grabbed a few things that I'll need. I'm only staying for a few days. I don't want to wait much longer to leave."  
Josh hurried into the bedroom. "I won't be long."  
Michelle, dragging a small backpack behind her, came and sat down next to Jen. "Heard you talking about our _problems _out here."  
Jen had the grace to look ashamed. "It just slipped out. I'm sorry."  
Michelle grinned weakly. "It's all right. You knew about it; I guess we should've told Orli too."  
Orli reached over and grabbed her hand. "You all right?" he asked, concerned.  
She shrugged. "Life sucks sometimes. Knowing I'll probably never have kids sucks. But there's nothing I can do about it right now." She squeezed his hand briefly, then brushed it away with the pity he offered: she didn't want pity. With an effort, she smiled, fighting off dizziness and waves of nausea. It was definitely not one of her better days.  
Josh reappeared, carrying a tiny suitcase containing his barest essentials. "Ready?" he asked Michelle.  
She stood up, and after brief hugs from Jen and Orli and well wishes, she and Josh left. Jen and Orli quietly let themselves out.  
"It wasn't exactly the perfect end to a perfect afternoon," Orli commented, "but it was good spending some time together. I can't believe how little we've seen of each other since my birthday."  
Jen nodded silent agreement. "I feel so bad for them. I would sit there and about give up living if I found out I could never have kids."  
"On the optimistic side," Orli observed, "they might someday. It doesn't have to be a permanent problem, necessarily. It's just going to be much harder for them."  
Jen shook her head. "You're so upbeat about everything." She smiled.  
Orli did likewise. "I try."

A week later, Michelle returned, still feeling slightly off-color, but happy. Her grandfather (she called him "Pop-Pop") had indeed fractured his ankle. He'd gotten a black cast "so it won't ever look dirty," as he'd explained, and he seemed in good spirits. Michelle's aunt had stayed most of that same week helping out around the house, just as Michelle had, and they had spent some rare quality time together.  
When she called, Orli and Jen were relieved to hear her news, and glad that she sounded more contented than she had in weeks. Jen had some exciting news of her own: "I can feel the babies kicking inside me! It's so exciting."  
It didn't seem to bother Michelle. Rather, she was just as thrilled as her best friend. "That's great! You only have… what, two months left?"  
"A little more. It's actually about three," Jen corrected, trying to damper her own enthusiasm, if only slightly. Inside she was near to bursting with excitement. She wasn't really sure she could handle twins, but she was ready to try. "I have another ultrasound next week."  
"Interesting," Michelle commented, and her voice held a tone Jen couldn't decipher but was not at all sure she liked. "Is Orli going to be there this time?"  
Jen felt defensive even though her husband's absence at the last ultrasound had upset her too. "Yes, he is. He _tries_, Michelle. It's not like he plans to not be around when important stuff happens."  
Michelle said nothing. Obviously Jen hadn't quite hit on what she was really trying to say. After a moment of silence, she explained. "I know. It's not exactly that that makes me mad. It's like, hey, he has a life, after all, and he can't sacrifice it to be around sometimes. It's just… it almost seems like he doesn't appreciate what he has. I don't think he knows how lucky he is." Her voice wavered, though with grief or joy, Jen couldn't tell. "He's going to be a father!" She changed the subject, obviously embarrassed at her emotional display. "Have you decided on names yet?"  
Jen sighed inwardly, glad for this new topic. "I really like Jayme and Brian, and Orli likes Allyson, Justin and Hayden." She laughed. "We don't quite know yet, but we're getting there. We're not arguing about it anymore: we have rational discussions and everything."  
She could hear the grin in Michelle's voice on the other end of the line. "That's always a relief. Why don't you come over? Josh is out for the day, and you can just leave Orli all by his lonesome at your place. We haven't spent time alone together in forever."  
Five minutes later Michelle heard the key turning in the lock and got up to let Jen in. "So what's new with you?" she asked. "It's been awhile."  
Back in Michelle's house, Jen suddenly remembered something. "Did you see this?" she asked, picking up _Cosmopolitan _and handing it to her.  
Michelle gazed at the cover. "What am I supposed to be looking at? Sexy men uncensored? What guys really want during sex? How to be a hooker? Shocking love scandal- Oh, dear." She glanced up. "Has my husband been cheating on me with my best friend?" she demanded, sounding falsely indignant. Underneath the love scandal subtitle were two names in smaller print: Josh Hartnett and Jennifer Bloom.  
Jennifer couldn't help grinning. "You seem pretty concerned."  
Michelle shrugged. "It's in my nature. My mother always told me, 'Take it with a grain of salt.' Of course, I think she was talking about eating my vegetables at dinner, not my husband hooking up with my best friend, but…" She made a face. "It all goes to the same place. Besides," she continued, obviously determined not to let this twisted version of their personal lives bother her, "this magazine is a piece of crap. I don't know why I bought it, and they'll be over this in a week anyway." She changed the subject with, "So what have you been up to since I last saw you?" which sent the two spiraling into a three-hour conversation. They talked about Orli's movies, and Josh's filming, and Michelle's writing, and Jen's singing career, which was temporarily at a standstill, as her boss was out of town; his father was dying ("I still need some help writing lyrics, though," Jen admitted; "he'll expect something whenever he gets back. The man never rests"). They talked about their summer plans (Michelle was flying to California to visit friends and meet her family out there; Jen was heading to Texas to see her parents), and Jen's babies, and baby names, and the possibility of Orli's heading back to New Zealand that summer for final _Lord of the Rings _reshoots, and his idea of bringing all three of them along. They talked about their lives in general and found that they never ran out of things to say.  
Finally Michelle stood and stretched. She yawned lazily. "I just remembered. I need to go to the grocery store and pick up some milk and food for dinner. You want to come?"  
"I have nothing better to do." Jen shrugged.  
Michelle narrowed her eyes. "I'm so glad. I wouldn't want to keep you from something you really_ wanted _to do."  
Jen's lips curved upwards. "Shut up."  
Michelle sneered and swaggered out of the room, car keys in hand.

The checkout line was fairly short; it was, after all, a Thursday afternoon. Jen helped Michelle pile milk and cold cuts and taco shells and meat onto the counter as Michelle gazed absently at the tabloids. Tabloids were some of her favorite things in the whole world and always good for a laugh. Jen had even found a copy of the _National Enquirer _(June 2002) in a drawer once (why she'd been looking in the drawer at all, Jen couldn't remember). It contained a small article about Jen and Orli's marriage, and Jen had often wondered why Michelle never bothered to share what was being published about them. That time, there were numerous implications that Orli was cheating on his ex, Kate Bosworth, and also various references to Jen's high school boyfriend, Matthew Rock, whom she'd hooked up with her junior year and had stopped seeing only a month before she'd met Orli. The ludicrous idea of all four of them constantly cheating on each other seemed to be the only good topic the teen magazines and tabloids had on them, though it was undeniably lacking in honesty; for the most part, their true lives were kept relatively quiet, as compared to those of other stars.  
Michelle clapped her hands together suddenly. "Look, Jen!" she half-squealed.  
"What?" Jen didn't see where she was pointing.  
Michelle was nearly jumping up and down with glee. Jen gazed at her with weary affection. Michelle was forever telling her to lighten up, but sometimes Jen found her incredibly embarrassing, although always good for a laugh (whether she meant to be funny or not). At any rate, Jen finally saw what had Michelle so excited.  
"You're on the cover of _Globe_!" Michelle exclaimed. "This is the first time they've published anything good."  
"You're holding up the line, miss," the checkout boy, a teenager with zits and wild, dirty blonde hair, began. Horn-rimmed glasses winked in the light reflected from the ceiling; metal braces with blue bands drew attention away from his sweet-natured smile. Michelle turned on him and flashed her most dazzling smile. Jason, to tell by his nametag, stumbled over whatever he was about to say as Jen faced him also. He opened and closed his mouth several times, then gave up and said nothing.  
"I'm sorry," Michelle apologized sweetly, and managed to look truly apologetic. Maybe she was, but Jen could never be quite sure. "Can we throw in this magazine… or is that too much trouble, since you've already rung up the total…?"  
"N-no trouble at all," Jason stuttered, and added the magazine to the total, glancing up at the girls repeatedly. Jen felt bad for him; he obviously had no experience with girls, but Michelle didn't seem to notice at all. She already had her nose buried in _Globe._ She apparently found what she was looking for, flipped the corner of the page down, and seized her two grocery bags, flashing one last smile to poor Jason, who looked up at her and grinned hopefully.  
"You are so embarrassing," Jen told Michelle in the car. "I don't think you're allowed to hit on people after you marry."  
Michelle looked puzzled. "Was I hitting on someone?"  
"The checkout guy!" Jen cried.  
Michelle frowned. "Checkout guy?" There was a brief pause, then, "Oh! _That _checkout guy. Happens all the time," she finished dismissively, then winced. "That sounded pretty arrogant, didn't it?"  
Jen chose to glare rather than answer. "Let me see that magazine."  
Michelle sighed dramatically and surrendered the magazine, which, up till then, had been tightly gripped in her left hand.  
Jen flipped to the previously marked page. "Listen to this!" she exclaimed, skimming the article. "_Actor Orlando Bloom, who only last year married virtual unknown Jennifer Trayan Bloom_ ("Virtual unknown?" Michelle interjected, sounding rather insulted on her friend's behalf), _is not content with only one woman. Rumors say Orlando is actually secretly seeing singer Mandy Moore, who broke up with her boyfriend of two years just last month. The two were spotted in a coffeehouse in New York City several weeks ago and drove off together upon leaving.  
Yet Orlando may be in good company. Recently, suspicions of his wife having become pregnant by her best friend's husband, Josh Hartnett, arose. Josh and Jennifer are "very close," a good friend of theirs, who wished to remain anonymous, confided to_ Globe. _"They spend a lot of time together, and Orlando was never around when Jen got pregnant because he was filming his movie_ Pirates of the Caribbean. _It wouldn't surprise me at all if those babies aren't Orli's_."  
Michelle made a soft whistling noise through her teeth. "That sounds familiar. I wonder who the 'close friend' is?"  
"If I ever find out, they won't be alive much longer," Jen responded threateningly.  
Stopped at a red light, Michelle gave over a moment to glance at Jen. "Try to breathe," she instructed soothingly. "It's not that big a deal."  
Jen glared. "It would be if it were you."  
"They'll get over it. Ignore them. They _live _to work people up. There were a lot of vicious rumors going around when Josh took a year off acting. And the more they run you down, the more famous you become, in a sense."  
"I don't want to be famous!" Jen cried. "I just want to lead a relatively normal life!"  
The light turned green. Michelle, always cautious, glanced both ways before moving, then, deeming it safe, stepped on the gas.  
"Michelle," Jen began as she pulled away. But she didn't need to. A car on the wrong side of the road, seemingly come out of nowhere, was racing right for them; Jen had the feeling it had just pulled out of its proper lane for no apparent reason. Michelle jerked the wheel wildly, but not quickly enough.  
The impact was shocking. Jen felt the airbag pressing against her, but having hit her head on the window, she noticed little else, though she did clearly comprehend that no airbag had popped out in front of Michelle.  
The world began to spin and lost color as Jen felt herself losing consciousness. She wondered dizzily why she heard a car horn sounding ceaselessly, and then realized that Michelle's head rested on the steering wheel, and one long, continuous beep issued from the horn. Her nose detected the faint, yet distinct, acrid reek of smoke, and her ears picked up the hideous clamor of screeching tires, but all she could think of was why Michelle couldn't pick up her head and make the noise stop.

She woke up suddenly, without warning. The first thing she registered, of all things, was that she was in an itchy, and on the whole rather uncomfortable, white gown that fell to just below her knees. She tried to sit up, but groaned as her head spun and found herself forced to lie back down.  
The next thing Jen realized was that she only had complete control of her left hand, and that that whole arm was bandaged. Pulling herself up just barely enough to look over the side of the thin mattress she lay upon, she realized that Orli had hold of her right hand. His head was bent, and he'd given no reaction to her attempted movement; to all appearances, he was sleeping sitting up.  
"Where are we?" Jen muttered groggily. Orli jumped, startled, and finally looked up. "Jennifer," he whispered, and she felt him grasp her hand more tightly. Jen was shocked to see how paper-white his face was. Staring at him, some remembrance of the accident returned to her. She shook her head, very gently, trying to clear her thoughts. "How long was I unconscious?" she asked finally.  
"Awhile," Orli told her. "It's almost midnight." As he said so, Jen glanced outside through a small, square window at eye level. It was dark out. Jen remembered, it had been bright outside when they left the grocery store, the sun just preparing to think about setting for the night. So it must have been hours on end. Poor Orli, he had to have been sitting there for a very long time.  
Just then the door to the little room opened, and a doctor, with large square glasses perched upon his crooked nose, came in, bearing a clipboard and a solemn expression. "You're awake," he said briskly, and Jen refrained from telling him yes, she was aware of this. "Good," the doctor continued. "You've been lucky," and again Jen had to stop herself opening her mouth to counter that lucky people didn't get into car wrecks in the first place. She glanced at the doctor's nametag, surprised that it didn't read "Captain Idiot." Dr. Albright, as she had just discovered he was called, continued, "You suffered a concussion from when you hit your head on the window, but fortunately it wasn't too serious. You also picked up some burns when the car engine caught fire, but you'll be fine. I'd like to watch you in the hospital overnight, though. I understand you're pregnant with twins?"  
Jen responded in the affirmative.  
"Well," the doctor explained, "sometimes in car wrecks, if the airbag has enough force behind it, it's possible that it can damage the baby's organs, or restrict its air supply, or interfere with the normal functioning of the umbilical cord. With twins, this can be a double threat if the babies are situated in the uterus such that the airbag presses in and forces one baby backwards, which could also harm the other. It's not a commonality, since most airbags don't have the power needed to make a significant difference, and most fetuses aren't positioned just right so as to be affected, but it's always a possibility. I would recommend another ultrasound, just to be on the safe side, and I would like to monitor your vital statistics for the next twenty-four hours to ensure that no lasting harm has occurred to you or your babies."  
Though Orli looked worried about the babies, his face had brightened visibly during the course of the doctor's generally optimistic report. Yet Jen still sensed that something was wrong. "Michelle," she said finally. "She was driving. Where is she?"  
Dr. Albright glanced at Orlando. He nodded, indicating that the person Jen was talking about was also under the doctor's care. Dr. Albright gently explained the defective airbag, and that Michelle had cracked her wrist on the dashboard, and hit her head on the steering wheel. "It most likely is not a fatality," he concluded, "but at this stage it's hard to say how much damage might have been done. She may have a concussion, or amnesia or even brain damage in an extreme case. She was burned as well, but that may be the least of her problems. We'll let you know as soon as we have more definite news." With a sympathetic glance that took in both of them, the doctor spun on his heel and left the room, the door slamming shut behind him and the noise echoing throughout the tiny room in the silence that followed his departure.  
"Orli," Jen asked finally, talking softly so as not to disturb the quiet, which it suddenly seemed very important to maintain (though Jen craved answers more than silence), "what happened?"  
He glanced up, eyes suspiciously bright. "From what they've told me…" he began, and then paused to collect his thoughts. "I think, when Michelle saw the driver coming towards you, she steered to the right, and she was almost completely turned in that direction when the driver ran right into you. So her side of the car was hit close to the front, and your airbag popped out, and you were jerked to the right, which is why you hit your head. I don't know much more about Michelle than you do. I think there was a hole in her airbag, or so I overheard, so when it didn't pop out, she slammed backwards, and then jerked full force into the steering wheel, which accounts for her possible concussion, and her wrist was run into the dashboard. She was cut when the window shattered, but that's minor, and I don't think she's very badly burned. We told the doctors neither of you smokes, so they think the fire was just spontaneous combustion. People stopped to drag you both out of the car, otherwise you probably would've been in it when it exploded." He stopped talking for a moment, obviously disturbed. "I thought I heard someone out there saying Michelle might have crushed a lung or at least broken some ribs on the bottom of the steering wheel." A shudder ran through him. "At least you're all right," he whispered, and bent his head again.  
Jen sat up slowly, fighting off nausea as the room spun. She became aware of a faint but steady _beep, beep_ above her head and, glancing up, watched a small screen that recorded her heartbeat in neon green against a black background. She stared, morbidly fascinated by this machine, and wondered if there was one above Michelle's head, wherever she was, beeping just as reassuringly. She squeezed Orli's hand tightly. She was mildly frightened, yes, but also she felt a peculiar sense of detachment, as though she were a stranger, watching this scene from somewhere near the ceiling, unable to share in the intensity of feeling that she knew must -or at least should- be passing between herself and her husband.  
The door opened again, and Jen looked up, expecting Captain Idiot again. But no, she chided herself mentally, the good doctor was doing all he could for them. That he'd informed Jen of her wakeful state did qualify him as automatically stupid.  
At any rate, it was not the unfortunate doctor, but Josh, even paler than Orlando. "How is she?" Orli asked quietly.  
Josh did not respond right away. Indeed, he seemed not to be sure where he was. "Jennifer," he murmured. "You're awake."  
"So I've been told," Jen muttered, feeling more focused on the moment and discovering that her wits were returning along with her common sense. As she realized this, the feelings she had kept at bay were released in a surge of internal terror and a pain inside her that no doctor could cure. She was very much afraid of what the next few days, or even the next few minutes, might bring. She repeated Orli's question, and Josh shrugged helplessly, collapsing into the only chair in the room, other than the one Orlando occupied.  
Jen reached out to squeeze Josh's hand, and he glanced up, trying to smile in reassurance. Whether he was trying to reassure himself, Jen or Orli, Jen wasn't sure. His next words told little. "She's about the same. I don't know what that means. Nobody will tell me what's wrong." He pulled his hand back from Jen and ran it through his hair, frustrated.  
And they sat that way for eternity. Soft footfalls could be heard outside the door from time to time; the monitor steadily beeped over Jen; rapid breathing dominated the tiny room. Josh left once to buy food for himself and Orli, and they both passed the rest of the night by Jen's little hospital bed, without talking. The sun slowly rose on a new day.

A nurse knocked softly and entered; Jen idly wondered what the point of knocking was if the woman wasn't going to wait for a response. Josh practically leaped from his seat, but the nurse simply said, "Jennifer Bloom?"  
Jen started. "That's me."  
"We're going to take you to have an ultrasound," the nurse explained. She glanced at Josh and Orli. "But the doctor won't allow visitors." Orli looked enraged, but too tired to open his mouth in protest. Josh sank back into his chair, eyes glazed over in concealed disappointment. Jen just shrugged, with an apologetic glance at Orli, and allowed herself to be wheeled out of the room in a wheelchair. Her insistence that she was fully capable of walking did not earn her the privilege of using her legs.  
Jen was familiar with the procedure, of course, and didn't flinch as the cold gel made contact with her stomach. She watched silently, almost stonily, feeling some measure of last night's strange detachment return. The doctor spoke little and did not smile, though Jen doubted, from first glance, that he'd ever smiled a day in his life. He seemed a grim little man; little, for he was shorter than Jen, probably not more than two inches taller than Michelle, though of a much stockier build than either.  
At last the doctor began to talk. Pointing out black-and-white images on the small screen, he began with, "It's impossible to say whether lasting damage has been done," and Jen, who had come to believe that technology was no further along than the eighteenth century, when "high-tech" meant sweating out a fever, rolled her eyes and immediately took the doctor for a fool. Jen wasn't feeling all that compassionate, and desperately hoped he would have something good to tell her in order to prevent an imminent temper tantrum, which, until then, she prided herself on having long since outgrown. The doctor, unaware of this insensitive train of thought, continued, "It seems that one fetus was affected by the airbag, but it's difficult to predict whether it was significantly harmed. The other fetus was untouched, and that's good news. The first one-"  
"Listen," Jen interrupted, not in the mood to patiently listen to pointless blathering. "Are my babies all right or not?"  
"Well," the doctor stammered, "they should be. One of them may have heart damage, but most likely that one could be given special medicines at birth and would be fine after. I don't think a c-section will be necessary for early removal-"  
"Fine," Jen cut in once more. "Thank you. Have a nice day." Her chopped sentences betrayed her impatience.  
The doctor looked puzzled. "Mrs. Bloom," he began pleadingly, "I'm only trying to tell you what's happened."  
Jen shook her head angrily. "I don't care what's happened. I want to know what's going to happen."  
The doctor's eyebrows lifted. "I'm trying to _tell _you what's going to happen…"  
Jen sneered. "You're guessing. And I'm not talking about my babies." She shifted. "I'd like to leave now."  
The doctor surrendered, obviously understanding the stress Jen was feeling. Later, Jennifer would wonder at his empathy, and how he could stand to be treated in such a manner and still be able to paste a polite smile on his face. She owed him much more credit than she'd initially given him. "I'll file a report in case you decide to look through it," he told Jen, and called in a nurse to wheel her back to her room.  
When Jen arrived back, breakfast was waiting for her. At least, she assumed it was supposed to be breakfast. Orange juice was perched on the corner of a red plastic tray; hashed browns and scrambled eggs quivered in the middle of a small plate. Jen made a face at Orli. "Did nobody inform these people that I do not eat breakfast?"  
"How was the ultrasound?" Orli asked, ignoring the question.  
"I don't know." Jen shrugged.  
Orli's eyes widened. "You don't know," he repeated. "How could you not know?"  
Jen pursed her lips. "The doctor was an idiot. 'Maybe' this happened and 'It's possible' this will happen." She raised her shoulders again. "So, I didn't pay too much attention."  
Orli stared in disbelief. "Do you not care what happens to our babies?" he demanded.  
Jen looked as though she were seriously considering it. "Of course I do," she declared after a moment's pause. "But that doctor back there sure didn't know." She still wasn't fully capable of possessing emotion, and she felt devoid of fear and pain. She wanted to keep it that way. She was tired of fear and pain.  
Orli jumped up. "Stop acting like you're the only one with problems, Jennifer," he snapped. "You think I'm not worried sick that our babies might not live? You think Josh isn't worried about that, and about Michelle too? You think you can just shut down and say, oh, nothing bad happened, everything's fine? I don't know what's wrong with you. Maybe it's normal to be in denial when stuff like this happens. But I like you better when you actually have feelings."  
With this fine speech, Jen felt reality return. She felt cold and sick and shocked at herself. Words wouldn't come, so she simply stared down at the ground as tears welled up in her eyes.  
"Hey." Orli's voice was softer now. "Jennifer."  
She looked up, afraid of what anger she might see in his eyes.  
He squeezed her hand gently. "Don't worry. We'll get through this. Everything will be fine." He smiled slightly. "Eat your breakfast."  
Jen made a face and grudgingly picked up her fork. She didn't ask why she had to. She needed her strength.  
"Where's Josh?" she asked between mouthfuls of hashed browns, which she detested even warmed up, and these were stone cold.  
"He went to see Michelle."  
Jen looked up sharply. "Did they tell you anything more?"  
Orli sighed. "Nothing. I'm hoping he comes back with some good news." Jen closed her eyes; what little appetite she'd worked up vanished, and the hand that held her fork trembled.  
A knock on the door made them both jump straight up in the air, but it was only a nurse, one they hadn't seen before, with a file folder in hand. "The ultrasound report," she explained when she saw them staring at her. Orli reached out, and she placed it gently in his hand.  
Before she left, Jen blurted, "Do you know how our friend is?"  
"Friend?" the nurse echoed, puzzled.  
"Her name's Michelle Hartnett. She was in the accident too. We've been waiting for more news on how she's doing," Orli clarified.  
The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry, I just got here. I work an eight to four shift. I haven't heard anything about your friend." With that, she pivoted on her heel and left. Orli flipped through the report expressionlessly. Either it didn't make much sense to him or it was exactly what he was expecting.  
Fifteen minutes hadn't yet passed, according to Orli's watch, but it felt like forever between nurse's departure and the arrival of a doctor informing them that Josh had requested their presence elsewhere. It was obscurely worded enough that neither Jen nor Orli had any clear idea where they were being escorted, but knew that at least they would see Josh, who could tell them more than the uninformative nurse.  
"I don't understand why I'm not allowed to walk," Jen complained just moments later. "It's good exercise!" She made an attempt to sound energetic and swung her arms out wildly, bouncing slightly to emphasize her point.  
Orli seized her hand just in time to stop her from knocking over a nearby vase. "I wouldn't say you're altogether well just yet," he responded serenely, walking beside her.  
"But my legs are all cramped up," Jen whined. "They need to be _used_. Legs are meant to be _used_."  
Orli made no comment as they were led down a long hallway. It was a bit too intensely lit, probably to make the depressing place seem cheerier.  
Eventually they came to the Intensive Care Unit, ICU. It did not feel like a happy place, no matter how many lights beamed down from the ceiling, no matter how many lamps sat perched against the walls (it seemed to Orli and Jen a complete waste of electricity to have both lights and lamps). The ICU was _not _a happy place. It was where people came to die and friends and relatives came to make their final good-byes. Jen and Orli ceased talking as they drew nearer, intuitively sensing the reverence held in silence in this place.  
They entered a room far down the hall. The first thing they saw was Josh's back; the first thing they heard was his voice.  
Creeping (in Jen's case, wheeling) quietly into the room, they saw him talking quietly to an unmoving form on the bed. A long, thin needle was run into her left arm, smooth and shiny with first-degree burns; a neon blue cast (Jennifer hadn't realized they came in that particular shade) covered her right arm from hand to elbow.  
She gave no response to their entrance, and for a moment Jen feared the worst. But then Josh looked up with a small smile. "She was up before. She lodged several complaints against the breakfast they gave her," and Jennifer felt the corners of her mouth tugging upwards in a diminutive rendition of a smile, thinking of the cold hash browns and salty scrambled eggs on her own breakfast plate.  
"She'll be fine?" Orli asked, needing to hear those words.  
Josh's smile flickered. "She'll have that cast for at least a couple of months, but I'd say considering the whole situation, she was pretty lucky. No crushed lungs or broken ribs or anything, like they were afraid of."  
Jen frowned at the thought of having a cast for that long. "Could be worse."  
"Could be," Josh affirmed, sounding optimistic.

They were right. The next few days brought new improvements for both her and Michelle. Jen was finally allowed the use of her legs, much to her relief, and was released after spending one more night in the hospital. Josh rarely left Michelle's bedside; Jen and Orli came to visit at least once a day. The hospital staff in the ICU came to know them personally, as they were there so often, and the two were always let in, no matter what time of day. After a few days, when Michelle was moved into a regular ward, it proved more difficult to bend the rules about visiting hours, but they managed.  
Michelle was allowed to return home a week later. Apart from her cast and burns she did not appear much changed by the accident. Apparently close brushes with death were not life altering when one was unconscious the whole time.  
Jen, however, felt strange about the whole thing, rather as though she'd cheated death. She spent so much time wondering what would have happened if they'd died- Orli and Josh would be lost, and their families and friends would be crushed, and Jen's babies would have died with her, and Jen herself would never have gotten the chance to make something out of her life- that Orli, more than once, came home from visiting friends and found her on the couch in the front room in tears, greatly distressed about what might have been. Orli himself- who did not trouble with the hypothetical when it wasn't absolutely necessary- had overcome his blind terror of Jen's alternate universe when he knew everything would turn out fine.  
Apart from Jennifer's episodes, April passed with little event. It grew unusually warm, and then too cold, and finally the temperature leveled off. The flowers in Jen and Orli's front yard were in full bloom, spring hues of reds and purples and whites and pale pinks. Jennifer was overcome by a bout of spring-cleaning, much to her husband's dismay, and spent several days dusting every piece of furniture in the place, along with all the fan blades and blinds. Josh and Michelle decided, for no apparent reason, that, rather than replacing the wrecked BMW Z3, they would simply sell their Toyota Echo and buy another BMW, this one a four-door that seated five instead of two, claiming it was more practical; and Orli and Jen wondered when they'd ever particularly worried themselves with the practical. Michelle was in boisterous good spirits, though Jen and Orli weren't quite sure why, and took up an enthusiastic exercise program, working around the difficulties of her broken wrist, which she convinced Jen to do with her, claiming it was good for the babies. It involved at least a mile of alternate jogging and running each day, as well as trips to the gym to work out with the smaller weights and, occasionally, swim laps. Orli lazed about and visited friends while Jen and Michelle were out; Josh was much occupied with filming, some of which was being done in the city, so he wasn't forced to leave home for a long period of time, although in late April he did announce that he was jetting off to California for three weeks. Michelle ended up going with him, and Orli and Jen spent some more quality time together.  
Another ultrasound produced much the same results as the last doctor had predicted, and though Jen couldn't fully shake off her worries about her unborn children, she was truly happy for the first time in months. The doctor had also given a due date, but warned that most often, first babies were late in arriving: his prediction was around June 20. Jennifer noted, not without some measure of ironic amusement, that they were due right around their first anniversary, and wondered if she'd be fighting off labor pains when she should be out celebrating the completion of one wonderful, turbulent, wild and amazing year with her husband.  
Mother's Day rolled around, and Jennifer and Orli were still alone. Michelle had called from Hollywood the night before, apologetically explaining that they'd probably be in California for another couple of weeks. She'd wished Jen a happy Mother's Day and sent her a sweet mother-to-be card and a big silk pillow she'd found in Chinatown.  
Meanwhile, Orli's idea of Mother's Day was to ignore Jen's protests that she wasn't a mother just yet and didn't want to make a big deal of the occasion. Though they were low-key, Orli had still insisted on booking a private room for two in a downtown hotel, where they'd enjoyed dinner and each other's company, and where Jen had worked her way through two salads, a baked potato, an eight-ounce steak (having decided that being a vegetarian simply wasn't practical when one was pregnant), a bowl of ice cream and a generous portion of cheesecake. Forget exercising, she thought. This was more fun. It occurred to her that she was having serious cravings for food because of the whole pregnancy factor, but she didn't trouble herself about it.  
They arrived home two hours later, Jennifer thoroughly exhausted; all that food had lulled her to a dreamlike state even before they'd left the city, and her eyes were not willing to stay open of their own accord. She fell happily into bed, sinking into the soft mattress beneath the silk sheets, and surrendered herself to sleep, sinking into a peaceful oblivion that promised to surround her until the morning, when she knew she would wake up to the smell of Orli making breakfast, and walk into the kitchen to be greeted with a smile and presented with a plate of pancakes, still warm and drizzled with maple syrup, and they would sit down at the table and talk, and Jennifer would know exactly what she was living for in perfect moments like the one that waited for her. Life was good.


	15. Chapter 15

Michelle returned home after another week, but alone. Josh was working overtime on his movie and didn't see the point of coming back to New York only to leave again in another couple of weeks.  
"Now you know how I felt when Orli was filming," Jenn commented over the telephone while munching a mint Oreo.  
Michelle sighed. "Did I ever _not _know how you felt?" Jenn couldn't decide if her tone was dejected or teasing, or perhaps a little of both.  
"True," Jenn reflected, finishing her Oreo and reaching for another. "Why don't you come on over? We'll have some of that girl talk our husbands love so much." She sneered at Orli, who had just walked into the room and pulled a face at the mere words. He subtly worked the cookies away from their spot on the end table beside Jenn, who, not noticing, didn't even blink.  
Michelle's voice brightened. "Really?"  
"Yeah!" Jenn declared. "That's what I'm here for, your entertainment!"  
Michelle snickered. "I think you do a little more than just entertain me."  
"Yeah, well," Jenn said, faking modesty. "Come on over anytime."  
"How about in a few minutes?" Michelle suggested. "I have to eat something for lunch."  
Jenn grinned, even though she knew Michelle couldn't see her. "Sounds perfect."  
"What sounds perfect, me coming over or lunch?" Michelle questioned amusedly, knowing full well about Jenn's wild cravings for food, especially now at the end of her pregnancy.  
"Yes," Jenn answered, a trick she had picked up from Michelle herself.  
"Bye, Jen!" Michelle laughed, raising her voice in false irritation. "I'll be over in a few."  
"See you then!" Jenn hung up and reached for her Oreos. "_Hey_," she yelled upon discovering their absence. "_Orlando Bloom_, GET BACK HERE WITH MY COOKIES!" She sprinted off to find him as, the next block over, Michelle calmly spread mayonnaise on a piece of bread; as Orli ran from Jenn, unable to contain his laughter, Michelle gazed around her empty kitchen with a smile as she thought of the news she couldn't wait to share with Jenn.

Jenn expected Michelle to show up looking lonely and in desperate need of company, as she herself had shown up at Josh and Michelle's doorstep so many times before, but Michelle was absolutely _glowing_. Her skin was faintly tan, presumably from spending so much time outdoors with Josh, filming; her gleaming brown hair was illuminated with natural red highlights. In short, she looked great. Rumor held that she was a photographer on the set, though she hadn't mentioned it to Jenn and Orli, and obviously wasn't a main photographer, as she'd left in the middle of filming. Michelle walked inside without waiting for an invite and tossed her car keys on the end table by the door. "Jenn!" she exclaimed, and gave her a big hug.  
Orli came up behind Jen. "Michelle!" he cried, and embraced her warmly. There was a faint sound of crinkling plastic as his body pressed briefly against hers.  
Michelle pulled back, frowning. "Why is there a package of- something- stuffed under your shirt?"  
Orli winced almost imperceptibly, while Jenn yelled, "So _that's_ where you hid them, you… you-"  
Orli placed a hand firmly over Jenn's mouth. "Here you go, Michelle," he said, tossing her the package. A bewildered Michelle caught it, looked at the package, and popped the very last mint Oreo in her mouth. "Fanks," she answered, voice garbled. Swallowing, she added, "Do you have some milk?"  
Jenn stared on in absolute horror.

Five minutes later, Jenn plopped herself behind the wheel of her Mustang as Michelle slid into the passenger's seat, on their way to the grocery store to buy some more mint Oreos. "So, Michelle…" she started, not knowing exactly how to begin, not knowing exactly what she was trying to say.  
Michelle waited. "Yes?" she prompted when she realized Jenn wasn't about to say anything else.  
"I don't quite know how to say this…" Jenn fumbled.  
Michelle glanced over, eyebrows drawn together. "Jenn, is there a problem?"  
Jenn shifted into reverse and slowly backed the car out of the driveway. "I don't know, you look so… so _happy_, and I thought you'd be more upset about Josh being out and you being on your own for a few weeks. I know that's how I felt when Orli was always away, and it's worse for you since Josh is across the country and can't even come home to dinner."  
Michelle took a deep breath. "Do you really want to know?"  
Jenn fought off the urge to sneer and bit back a sarcastic remark, sensing that neither was appropriate for the moment. "Of course!"  
Michelle stared steadily out the side window. "After the car wreck, when I was still in the hospital, something weird happened."  
"What?" Jenn interrupted quickly.  
Michelle gave her a look. "I'm getting to it! Anyway, they ran a few tests on me, and… I had a miscarriage."  
"_That's_ why you're happy?" Jenn exclaimed in disbelief. "That's why you're _happy_?"  
Michelle, frowning, put a finger to her lips, indicating she'd appreciate silence, and Jenn, thinking about it, realized just what was so good about Michelle's miscarriage. Her eyes widened.  
"I had to have some minor surgery to complete the miscarriage, which is why I was in the hospital for an entire week, but Josh asked everyone not to tell you just yet. To be honest, I was beginning to realize I was pregnant right before the accident, but I hadn't told even Josh yet. I didn't want to get his hopes up for what could be no reason. It was the same feeling when I miscarried, and why we didn't want you to hear about it yet, especially not from some strange doctor or nurse. We wanted to know what would happen next before we got all excited."  
"And?" Jenn prompted, feeling excitement building within her even though this was her friend's news and not hers.  
"And… and… maybe I'm pregnant again?" Michelle sounded unsure.  
Jenn reached over to give her a hug. "Michelle, that's so great!"  
Michelle didn't return the hug; instead, she tensed up. "Jenn?" she asked, voice strained.  
"Yes?"  
"You might want to drive right now, and hug me in the parking lot or something," Michelle suggested.  
"Ah," Jenn muttered, and steered the car back over to its proper lane. "Right. Sorry about that."  
"But listen," Michelle continued, returning to the previous topic. "You _cannot_ tell _anyone_ about this yet. Not until I know for sure. Not Orli, and especially not Josh."  
Jenn pulled into the parking lot and stopped to give Michelle a wide-eyed, disbelieving stare. "You haven't told _Josh_?"  
Michelle held her gaze, her voice steady. "Not until I know for sure," she repeated. "I know how badly he wants kids, and I don't want him to get all hopeful if this is a false alarm. Besides, he has enough to think about right now." She shrugged. "Who ever knows, these days. I'm just stressed out, as likely as not."  
Jenn smiled, a small smile, no teeth involved, afraid to feel happy just yet. "I'm still glad for you. Can I tell Orli about the miscarriage, at least? He'll probably be happier than I am."  
Michelle nodded. "Just not that I might be pregnant again. I don't want to hope for too much."  
Jenn nodded also, and pulled into a parking space. There, she gave Michelle the big hug she'd tried to give her in the middle of the road, and this time, Michelle returned it.  
The heat was unusually formidable for early June. Michelle was clad in a form-fitting, bright pink halter and short, dark denim shorts with flip-flops. She'd pulled her hair up, but the loose tendrils clung to the back of her neck, sweaty in the abnormally high temperatures. Jenn's dark green, oversized tee-shirt felt plastered to her back; her fuzzy white slippers, which she wore everywhere these days, since her feet occasionally swelled up without warning, had definitely been a mistake for going out, she decided. Her long, reddish brown hair seemed too heavy to be fully dry, weighted down as it was with moisture, and her tan skin felt as though it were on fire. Entering the air-conditioned store was a relief.  
"What do you mean, there are no more mint Oreos?" Jenn half-yelled at a sales associate down the cookie aisle. Michelle covered her face with her hands.  
"I'm sorry," Jenn apologized moments later. "It's these raging hormones; you know how that goes, huh?"  
The sales associate, whose nametag read "John," muttered his way through "No, not exactly," and went to see if there were any mint Oreos in storage, probably glad for an excuse to escape from the two women and recover some dignity.  
He returned moments later, arms weighted down with mint Oreos, and handed one to Jenn before turning to stack the rest on the shelf. Michelle rushed to help him. Jenn stopped her, declaring, "We'll take them all."  
"Jenn," Michelle tried to reason, "this poor man must have twenty packages of Oreos."  
"So?" Jenn shrugged, then paused to consider. "Well, anyway," she decided, "we'll take five packs." John handed them over with a smile, barely concealing an undignified snort. "That just made my day," he told her, unable to resist laughter once he'd opened his mouth.  
Michelle grinned maliciously, but Jenn clamped a hand over her mouth before she could open it, and went off to pay for the Oreos.

"Orli?" Jenn asked tentatively two weeks later, lying on the couch in pain, overheated despite the hurricane fan that perched on top of the coffee table right in front of her, sending constant blasts of cold air into her sweaty face. "I'm not feeling so- oooooh," she groaned as another spasm of pain shot through her.  
Orli looked alarmed. "Do you think maybe this is it?"

Jenn rolled around, clutching her stomach in mortal agony. "Maybe."

Orli seized the suitcase he'd had sitting by the door for weeks ("Orli, I'm not due for almost two months!") and rushed out to the car. Jenn hobbled after him, breathing heavily.  
"Orli," she muttered. Her voice barely registered and came out in a dry whisper. "Orli, what if it's just a false alarm? Most first babies are usually late, not early."  
Despite his efforts to retain control, Orli looked panicked. "What if it's not?"  
And then Jenn couldn't argue, though not sure she wanted to anyway. She laid down across the backseat of Orli's four-door car and fought off pain as he rushed through traffic.  
"I think maybe yelling at officers is _not _a good idea, Orli," Jenn murmured twenty minutes later, after Orli had been pulled over for speeding. He'd been going roughly fifteen miles over the forty-five mile per hour speed limit, and had insisted that his wife was in labor and he _needed_ to reach the hospital when the officer coldly informed him of this. Never mind that she might not be. None of the pregnancy books Jenn had read offered advice on distinguishing false alarms from genuine labor.  
The officer was not impressed by Orli's story, and said that if he killed his wife through his "reckless driving," being in labor wouldn't matter so much anymore, now would it?  
Orli had lost it and started yelling at him, demanding to know whether he had a wife and had ever had to drive her through rush-hour traffic so that her baby could be properly brought into the world and thus given a better chance for survival. Jenn, in her half-delirious state, found this speech very cute and touching, but the officer had simply asked for Orli's driver's license and written him a ticket, whereupon he'd wished Jenn, curled up and sweating in the backseat, the best of luck with her new baby (Jenn didn't bother to tell him there would be more than one). If the man hadn't walked away, he would have heard Orli swearing heatedly at him, and would probably have ended up writing yet another ticket, for being disrespectful to a cop or whatever.

"I'm sorry, Orli," Jenn apologized four hours later. "It_ felt_ real."  
Orli waved a hand at her dismissively. "Don't worry about it. It's what I'm here for."  
"No," Jenn insisted. "If I could tell the difference between false alarms and real labor, I would have saved you a crazy drive to the hospital _and _a ticket."  
Orli shrugged. "I think I can afford a hundred and fifty dollars. Our babies are worth it." Hi demeanor changed from detached to fatherly. "I want these babies to have the best." He leaned close to Jenn's huge stomach. "Do you hear me in there?" he called. "You're going to have the best of everything. Even if that means a dozen unnecessary trips to take your mommy to the hospital just in case you're ready to be born. Even if I get two dozen speeding tickets for those dozen trips. You will have the best! And nothing less than that!"  
Jenn, lying on the couch as before, laughed and pushed him gently away.

"So why exactly did Josh decide to pick up filming again?" Jenn asked Michelle over lunch the next day. Michelle had listened to Jenn's story of the false alarm from the previous night, and Jenn had taken her time telling it. Michelle was a very good audience, laughing during the right parts and gasping or commenting knowledgably at all the appropriate moments. Jenn was tired of talking and ready to be an appreciative audience herself.  
Michelle shrugged and rolled her eyes, indication of what she considered her husband's fathomless stupidity. "His passion is acting; he's not in it for the fame," she started, sounding as though she were quoting. "He doesn't like the idea of being famous or thought of as a teen icon, but he doesn't want to let what other people think of him get in the way of his doing what he loves." With a dramatic sigh, she continued, "It doesn't matter to him if all these crazy people he's never met are wild about him, and he doesn't care if his acting means that crazy teenage girls who've never met him in their lives will write crazy delusional stories about how they're married to him and have kids with him, including gory details about the sex…"  
"I get it, Michelle," Jenn interrupted.  
Michelle stopped abruptly. "Sorry. It sort of reminds me of us before all of this happened."  
"All of what happened?" Jenn questioned, not understanding.  
Michelle waved her hand in the air, taking in their expensive clothes and brand name purses, as well as the large, genuine diamond necklace that glittered around Jenn's neck, a long-ago birthday present that Josh, Orli and Michelle had all pooled their money to buy. "All of… _this_. The money, the fame. Remember when we were just crazy kids and loved to imagine that we'd someday be married to celebrities, and never dared to hope that someday we'd_ be_ celebrities, in our own unique sense, when we just loved to write and sing and did it all for fun and never expected anything more out of it than the sheer pleasure and passion we got out of doing it?"  
Jenn was impressed. "That was quite a speech." Her look changed to one of surprise. "You're pretty deep and philosophical today. What's gotten into you?"  
Michelle shrugged. "Crazy hormones."  
"Crazy hormones," Jenn repeated. "Is it that time of the month?"  
Michelle raised her eyebrows. "You could just ask if I have my_ period_," she responded, emphasizing the word, which tended to make Jenn as uncomfortable as if Michelle had informed her of the doings of her last trip to the restroom.  
"All right then," Jenn began, determined. "So do you?"  
"Do I what?" Michelle asked, eyes widening, the picture of innocence.  
Jenn glared. "Do you have your _period_?" she asked, speaking loudly to prove she wasn't afraid of the word. The elderly woman at the next table gave her a queer look and hustled her grandson away.  
"No." Michelle answered Jenn's question rather matter-of-factly.  
"Then what's up with the wild hormones?" Jenn demanded, confused. Her eyes glazed over as she thought about it. "You don't… then… what…"  
Michelle looked at her, a frown battling a smile for control of her mouth. "I went to the doctor's yesterday," she began.  
Jenn looked up in alarm. "Is something wrong?"  
Michelle stared at her. The frown won out over the smile. "Jen…."  
"Yes?"  
"I worry about you sometimes. I can tell you know exactly what I'm talking about. _Why _must you be so _difficult_?"  
"You said you went to the doctor! What else was I supposed to think?"  
Michelle rolled her eyes Heavenward. "Dear God," she intoned. Jenn wondered how she managed to make her tone melodramatic and reverent at the same time. "Why didst thou smite me with this thy…"  
Jenn cut her off with, "Oh! I've got it!"  
Michelle looked at her expectantly. "Go for it."  
"You've finally gotten sick, for the first time all year."  
Michelle sneered. "That's part of it."  
Jenn relented with a smile. "So you really are pregnant." It was not a question.  
Michelle's smile lit up the whole room. "Yeah. I am."  
"Have fun with that morning sickness thing!" Jenn cried.  
Michelle tilted her head to the left. "You don't seem all that surprised."  
Jenn, who was sitting directly opposite Michelle, across the table, tilted her own head to the right, mirroring Michelle in Jenn's own form of mockery. "I think I knew from the day you told me you might be."  
"I figured it was too good to be true, after all this time," Michelle admitted. "Hopefully this one will work out." Her face took on a dreamy, wistful expression. "I wonder if our last child would have been a boy or a girl."  
Jenn reached across the table and grabbed her wrist. "_Never _start thinking like that," she emphasized. "You have to live in the present."  
Michelle looked shocked. "Who's being all philosophical now?"


	16. Chapter 16

"Happy anniversary!" two voices cried together in the early morning of June 21, 2003. Two forms, one tall and slender, the other smaller and markedly pregnant, crept out quietly onto the back deck to curl up next to each other and watch the sunrise before heading inside to have pancakes and scrambled eggs and toast and bacon and cereal. After eating, they didn't even worry about the excess syrup dripping from their plates onto the beige tile floor that she worked so hard to keep clean, or the dirty dishes that piled up in the sink, or the persistent stickiness that lingered on their fingers and mouths even after they'd eaten. Two mouths locked in the bedroom, silhouetted against the bright sunshine that streamed in through vertically set windows, curtains drawn back. They merged together like a river meeting the sea, the graceful lines of their bodies melting into each other and becoming one. Against the contrasting bright background, they looked like one misshapen person, her legs wrapped around his, his hands pressing into the small of her back, her arms locked around his neck.  
They fell back onto the bed, barely taking note of the movement, not permitting it to interrupt the moment. He felt himself sinking beneath their combined weights, and the weight of two children who were not yet born, but very nearly ready to enter the world. And she forgot for one wild instant that she was anything but his loving wife, forgot to hold herself back as she usually did, for fear of being hurt. She could feel his heart racing against her own body. And she knew that his strength was there to protect her, not to hurt her. She didn't have to hold back.  
He rolled over, so she was lying on her side, and got up to close the curtains. At once the room was thrown into semi-darkness. She blinked, adjusting herself to this new dimness, aware all the while of his returning to her. As she grew accustomed to the light, she stared at his muscular, yet slender body as it drew nearer and nearer to her. She'd never before appreciated how very tall he was, or how his strapping shoulders gave his whole body a sense of power, or how his stocky hands lent him a feeling of balance. She'd never given a thought to his strong chin, which created a sense of sternness about him, though she knew it was misleading. She had seen him at his weakest and strongest in the time she'd known him, seen him break down crying in blind terror of that which was out of his control, had seen him laughing gaily as they opened presents on Christmas morning and birthdays. She felt the mattress sink on her right as he rejoined her, automatically rolling her closer to him, to be caught in the comfort of his embrace.  
And as he walked back to the bed, he too was bombarded with past memories of holidays and visits and dreams they'd shared. And he too stared at her, realizing as if for the first time the perfect balance of her dancer's body, wrapped in silk sheets, which clung to her and revealed the stunning form beneath, as he still considered it to be despite her pregnancy. He gazed at her round face and the long hair that framed it, hair that he'd spent what seemed now the better part of his life convincing her was beautiful and perfect for her. Yes, the better part of his life: it felt as though the only moments of his existence that mattered were those he'd spent with her. He noticed her little hands, and how they gave her whole body an illusionary sense of frailty and defenselessness. He peered through the darkness into her rich hazel eyes, watching and regarding him silently, even as he regarded her. He admired the soft, gentle curves of her body, set in all the right places. It was the body of a woman, not the young girl he knew she still considered herself to be.  
He didn't tell her any of this as he took his place in the bed beside her. Nor did she voice the revelations she had just experienced. In fact, both of them stopped thinking at all as they melted into each other once again, holding each other as though afraid of letting go ever again.

They allowed themselves to sleep until it was nearly noon, overtired from a late night and early rising. Jenn sat up, blinking sleep out of her eyes. The room was still semi-dark, the thick curtains allowing little light to penetrate.  
Orli awoke as he felt Jenn move. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes and looked around. He smiled as his eyes lit on Jenn. "Have a nice nap?" he asked cheerfully.  
Jenn looked over at him, returning the smile. "It was great. I'm ready to get up and do something, though. Do we have plans for the rest of our day?"  
Orli wrinkled his nose, apparently deep in thought. Jenn giggled as she watched his face. "I don't know. We could take a drive out to our property along the river, where we went for New Year's, and spend the day away from the city."  
Jenn swung her legs over the side of the bed and slid onto the floor, walking across the room to pick out an outfit. "I can't think of anything I'd rather do."  
Orli grinned and slipped out of bed also. "We can go whenever we're ready."  
Jenn paused, halfway through pulling on a lightweight, simple cotton T-shirt. "What if someone else is up there already?"  
Orli looked puzzled. "Such as…?"  
"Such as someone else from your family?" Jenn suggested.  
"Nobody's there," Orli responded carelessly. "I would know if someone was in the country."  
"Should we grab some lunch on the way there?" Jenn asked.  
"That might be a good idea," Orli answered, yanking a shirt on and stepping into a pair of shorts. "How do you feel about fast food?"  
Jenn shrugged. "Whatever works. Are we having a nice dinner?" she added as an afterthought.  
"Nothing but the best for my wife," Orli told her, with a mock-formal bow in her direction.  
Jenn laughed, unable to think up a clever response.  
They drove down to the riverfront. The trip took nearly an hour, but Jenn stared out the window and enjoyed the scenery most of the way, talking almost nonstop as she did so.  
"So don't you have a new movie coming out soon?" she asked innocently.  
Orli glanced over at her. "You seem to already know the answer."  
Jenn's whole face lit up. "Can we go together to see it?"  
"_No_," Orli said firmly. "Absolutely not. _No_. Stop that. I have to watch the road. No, no, no! I will not give in to the cute little puppy face. No!"  
Jenn slunk down in her seat and stared out the window again. Orli sighed. "All right. Fine. We'll go see the movie. But I will not watch it. I will sit there and… and… I will not watch."  
Jenn grinned, sitting upright again. "What's it called again?"  
Orli rolled his eyes. "_Pirates of the Caribbean_."  
"Sounds intriguing," Jenn told him, trying not to giggle madly. "So when exactly did you film this? I remember some last summer and into the fall, but you've mostly been working on _Ned Kelly_ lately."  
"We film a long time in advance," Orli explained. "I shot a lot of this last spring, and finished up in early fall. I actually had to beg for a month off so we could have our wedding and honeymoon."  
Jenn's response was simple. "I'm glad you did."  
Orli reached over to squeeze her hand. "I always have time for you. I threatened to walk out if they refused to give me the time off."  
Jenn was touched. "I didn't know you cared."  
"None of that," Orli reprimanded, sounding very much like Michelle did when she was about to begin a lecture on self-confidence, and Jenn's lack thereof. "I think marrying you should have told you I cared. By the way, after the wedding last year, Michelle told me you were convinced I was marrying you out of pity?"  
"That rat," Jenn muttered, and shrugged, slightly embarrassed. Her husband and friends provided her with much self-esteem, but there was still something to be desired. Jenn had no idea what she was waiting for, but she did know that her hard-earned self-confidence tended to abandon her at the most inappropriate of times. She determinedly shook it off and gave her husband an apologetic look. "I was just nervous. I didn't really mean it. I'm sorry."  
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Orli answered gently. "I just don't want to think you think I don't care about you."  
Jenn sighed. "I know you do. It's just…"  
Orli waited. When he realized she wasn't going to finish, he prodded her with, "It's just… what?"  
"It's… nothing. I don't know. Oh, I'm being stupid. Let's just enjoy our first anniversary," Jenn declared.  
Orli pulled into the driveway of a large, three-story house surrounded by elaborate gardens. Jenn jumped out of the car almost before Orli had rolled it to a stop. She loved the property. Everything about it was so beautiful. Jenn was not an outdoorsy type of person, but she did love those gardens.  
She rushed toward the bench where she and Orli had wished each other a happy New Year. Though she wasn't sure how she knew which bench it was, she knew. The wind whipped past her as she sprinted across the soft grass, bending in submission to her presence. She laughed out loud as she felt the sun warming her face and heard Orli behind her, chasing her. Let him chase her. Let him run. She was Jenn and she was unstoppable.  
They both collapsed on the bench, laughing, breathless. Jenn grinned up at Orli through the windblown hair flying across her face. "You couldn't catch up with me!" she cried gleefully.  
Orli lunged as if to tickle her. "I think I just did!"  
Jenn rolled away, sensing his intended action. "Only because I stopped!" she yelled, wildly exhilarated. She gasped and clutched wildly at the bench as she rolled right off it, landing in the grass with her hand pressing into the rough edges of the marble.  
Orli reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear before graciously pulling her to her feet. "I would have caught you in ten more seconds anyway," he declared, sounding quite sure of himself.  
Jenn sneered. "You couldn't catch me if you had a hundred horses to ride and ten thousand men to help you out and a car in case the horses…"  
Orli covered her mouth with his hand. "Jenn, you're talking nonsense."  
She pulled away, looking playfully insulted. "I am not!"  
"Are you hearing yourself?"  
"Yes!"  
"Well, are you actually listening?"  
"Yeah!"  
Orli grinned, shaking his hair, still damp from a quick shower, out of his face. "I worry about you sometimes, Jenn."  
Jenn burst out laughing.  
"This is one of those times I'm worrying about you," he informed her, alarmed. Had he missed a joke?  
Jenn only laughed harder. Orli stared down at her, eyebrows raised, then shrugged and gave up. Looking at her made him laugh, too. He didn't know why, and he doubted she did either. But he hadn't laughed like that in a long time.

He chased her for a while, and then she suddenly turned around and chased after him. He let her catch up, and she ran right into his arms, knocking them both over. It didn't bother either of them in the slightest.  
They ran barefoot through the gardens, sometimes stopping to rest on marble and stone benches. Orli collected several of the choicest flowers and presented them to Jenn with a bow. She clapped her hands gleefully as she accepted them and gave him a kiss in return. He pulled a small flower from the ground and tucked it behind her ear; she seized his hand and pulled it around her, and then they kissed again.  
They barely noticed when it started to rain. They kept running, as if sprinting in circles would take them far away. When the rain became a downpour, Jenn stopped running and stretched her arms wide, letting her mouth hang open to catch raindrops. Suddenly, she found herself looking at Orli instead of the sky. "You're blocking my raindrops!" she yelped, indignant.  
Orli pretended to look hurt. "Would you rather have raindrops or me?"  
"I'd rather have you," she answered quickly, and it was true. She hurried to add, "But I can't quite reach you."  
He bent down, his mouth merging with hers.  
Only when it started to thunder and flash lightning did they realize they had better go inside.  
Orli blasted the air conditioning. Jenn was confused as to why he would make it so cold, but couldn't deny that it was a nice change from the monotonous heat of summer; even the current storm made for intolerably humid weather. Still she shivered, involuntarily. He went into a back room, deaf to her questions, and came out with a thick woolen blanket, which he wrapped lovingly around her before going off to boil water for hot chocolate.  
Jenn had to admit it was nice to be cold and sip hot chocolate in the middle of June. Though not a fan of winter, she missed curling up by the fire on winter nights, and cuddling extra close to stay warm, as she hadn't done for months. It was better than any fancy restaurant, and she told him so.  
"I do my best," he said with an embarrassed sort of laugh, not wanting lavish praise heaped on him. "I had a craving for hot chocolate anyway."  
"So did I," Jenn admitted, wiping the drink from around her mouth. "But it's just so _hot_ out, I never would have thought of this."  
Orli waved his hand, as if to also wave aside the praise. "Sure you would have."  
"No," Jenn insisted. "You're really something, you know that?"  
"I don't know about that," Orli answered carefully, "but thanks." He laughed suddenly. "I guess you don't remember it, but you've mentioned several times how you wish it were colder out, I suppose partly because you're always overheated these days. Once, I mentioned hot chocolate to you, and you practically jumped at me, as if you thought I had some."  
Jenn was puzzled. "How is it that I have no memory of this?"  
Orli looked down quickly, but was too slow to hide his grin. "You were asleep. Actually, this was something of an impulse. We can turn the air down whenever you want."  
Jenn, wrapped in her blanket, snuggled closer to him on the plush couch. "I think I'm doing all right for now. It's a welcome change."  
Orli draped his arm around her, his chin resting on her head.

By the time Jenn finally grew cold enough to want to turn the air down, her hot chocolate was long finished and Orli had disappeared beneath a thick flannel blanket. Jenn's hand hovered over the control unit, suddenly reluctant to make it any warmer than it was. She'd been so overheated for months now, and, glancing at Orli, she realized what her husband was sacrificing to make her more comfortable.  
She shook her head with a grin. She had the sweetest husband in the world, and it was time to do him a favor. She turned the air down and returned to the couch where he sat.  
As soon as he heard her return, Orli slowly poked his head out from under his blanket, grinning up at her in a way Jenn found comparable to the smile of a newborn baby. "I made it warmer," she told him, proud of herself.  
He smiled. "But now you'll be too hot," he protested halfheartedly.  
"Nah, I'm fine," Jenn declared. She pulled him into a big bear hug. "Besides, you've been too cold."  
"I was fine," Orli insisted, but Jenn laughed. "You were completely holed up under a huge blanket," she reminded him. "Don't worry about me, it's still cool in here."  
Orli sat upright, setting aside his blanket as relatively warm air seeped through the house. "Hey, the babies were due yesterday, weren't they?" he asked, not sounding alarmed, but rather surprised.  
"Yeah, they were," Jenn answered. "Are you worried?"  
"Not if you're not," Orli murmured, pulling her closer. "I trust your instincts."  
Jenn frowned, thinking of the time Orli had rushed her to the hospital for what turned out to be no reason. Orli, guessing her thoughts, laughed at the miffed looked on her face. "But at least we knew there was no reason to be alarmed that time, instead of wondering if you were about to give birth in the middle of the living room," he told her. His face grew pensive. "So what have we decided on for names, exactly?"  
Jenn absently tapped her finger against the arm of the couch, frowning as she strained to remember. It was silly to forget- imagine being unable to remember her children's names!- but for some reason they weren't jumping to mind. "I liked Jayme and Brian, I think. And you liked Allyson, didn't you? I don't want Brian anymore. I want Allyson."  
Orli burst out laughing. "Babies are not interchangeable. Besides, you can't change a baby's name to Allyson if you've planned to name it Brian. One's a girl and the other's a boy, Jenn," he explained earnestly.  
Jenn frowned as she pushed away his hand, which had been creeping towards hers. The playful note in her voice contradicted her harsh action. "Well, I still like Allyson. You were right. Allyson is better than Jayme. And Brian doesn't sound so good with Bloom. Someone said that it did. But they were wrong."  
"That might have been me," Orli cut in. "So I was right on one count and wrong on another. I'd say they cancel each other out."  
It was Jenn's turn to look thoughtful. "I've always wanted a girl named Allyson Michelle. It has nothing to do with our Michelle," she added, anticipating his question as he opened his mouth. "I just love the name. Allyson Michelle Bloom."  
"It's nice," Orli agreed, surprised to arrive at a peaceful solution. "But it's also only one name," he added as an afterthought. "We need four."  
Jenn frowned. "You come up with something."  
Orli thought for a moment. "I can't think of any other names for girls. You liked Jayme before, didn't you? I mean, I know you like Allyson better, but Jayme's a good name too."  
"Do we want middle names?" Jenn asked. "You don't have one."  
"I suppose they'd be fine, but it depends on baby names," Orli remarked. "We don't want a huge name that would take an hour to say."  
"I thought we liked a lot of two-syllable names," Jenn said, straining to remember that long-ago afternoon when she, Orli and Josh had sat and argued about baby names as if there were nothing more important in the world. That had been before the car wreck, before Michelle's miscarriage, before Jenn's false alarm, before Jenn had fully realized that she would love her children even if their names were not her favorites. She mulled over that one for a few silent minutes as Orli sat watching her, absorbed in his own thoughts. Finally she spoke. "I've always liked the name Jocelyn, but I know you're not crazy about that."  
Orli chose his words carefully, trying to avoid what he clearly anticipated as an argument. "It's not a bad name, but no, I'm not crazy about it. I do like Allyson, though. If we only have one girl, that's my choice."  
Jenn glanced up hopefully. "Do you like Michelle as a middle name, too?"  
"It goes well with Allyson," he answered. "And we know it's a great name," he added with a grin. "I like that."  
"But what if we have two girls?" Jenn fretted. "And what about boys?"  
"I like Justin and Daniel for boys' names, and I don't know about other girls."  
Jenn spoke seriously. "I was thinking- if you agree- of giving any boys your name as their middle name. We could have Justin Orlando, maybe. I just think it makes a good name. Maybe it's not best with Justin, but I love your name."  
Orli laughed, pleased. "Thank you, but I don't know about that. We're not giving girls your middle name, are we? That's a thought, though…" he added.  
Jenn wrinkled her nose. "We already have one girl's name, and we like Jayme. Jayme Nance doesn't sound so good."  
"True," Orli reflected, "but if we come up with another name…." He trailed off into silence.  
"I like Nicholas as a boy's name," Jenn volunteered, "and it sounds pretty good with Bloom."  
"Nicholas Bloom," Orli mused. "I like that."  
"Justin's nice too," Jenn said, anxious to agree with him for a change. "And Daniel's a good name."  
Orli smiled. "Well, we have all our choices… Now we just have to wait and see what happens!"  
Jenn laughed. "I feel like we should write them down or something, in case we forget."  
Orli started laughing too. "Imagine our children being ten years old and we forget their names!"  
Jenn looked mock offended. "I think we'd remember by then. I'm actually picturing us in the hospital, and the nurses asking what our babies' names are, and us standing there looking at each other and trying to remember."  
Orli seized a pen and pad off the end table nearest him and pulled it towards him. "Let's see…" he began, clicking open the pen. "Allyson Michelle," he dictated to himself as he wrote. "Justin… Daniel… Jocelyn… Nicholas… Jayme. Did I miss any?" he asked, glancing up.  
Jenn tucked a rebellious lock of hair behind her ear. "I think that covers it." She yawned and stretched. "I don't want to talk about baby names anymore. Let's do something."  
"Such as…?" Orli questioned.  
Jenn checked her watch. "It's almost five-thirty! How did it get so late?"  
Orli looked up at the clock over the fireplace, startled. He had no idea where the day had gone.  
"What did you say we're doing for dinner?" Jenn asked, subconsciously placing a hand over her stomach.  
"A friend at a restaurant not far from here offered to cook for us," Orli told her distractedly. "I told him we'd call between five and six to order." He tugged two menus, buried under a centerpiece of artificial flowers, off the coffee table in front of him, presenting one to Jenn and diving into the other. "Knock yourself out."  
Jenn looked as though she very much wanted to comment at his choice of words, but resisted the urge.


	17. Chapter 17

"Do you ever think about the future?" Jenn asked, curled like a cat on a large velvet chair. She was gazing absently into the fire, the light dancing in her eyes, but she was clearly not seeing it at all.

Orli glanced up, surprised. They had ordered an enormous dinner, once he had convinced Jenn to give in to her cravings and not worry about watching her weight, and had since lapsed into a comfortable silence, listening to the crackling fire and watching the patterns it made on the wall. "Of course I think about the future," he answered her. "In fact…" He meant to produce the tickets to New Zealand he'd planned to give her tonight: He wanted to bring her, as well as Josh and Michelle, along for final _Lord of the Rings_ reshoots. He meant to tell her how much she meant to him and how he wouldn't be able to bear a month's separation otherwise. He meant to tell her that he did think about the future, had been planning on this part of their future for months now.

But Jenn sat up straight on the chair. "I mean really think about it," she insisted. "Like, what happens when we die?"

This struck Orli as such a morbid question on their one-year anniversary that he almost laughed at its lunacy. But something told him Jenn was serious, in a rather queer mood related to late pregnancy, and that he might be slapped if he dared even smile. Years of acting school trained his features to smoothness until even his mood matched hers. "I think about it sometimes," he said thoughtfully. "But I try not to. It's rather depressing."

"Yeah…" Jenn murmured dreamily. "But sometimes you have to think about it, right? I mean… I don't know. I'm not ready to die. But it still scares me."

Orli was genuinely concerned. "Death scares you? At twenty-three?"

"Nah," Jenn muttered, still in that faraway, misty voice. "Death doesn't scare me. Dying scares me. Being forgotten once I'm dead, that scares me too. Other than that, I think I could handle it easily. I mean, I know I'm going to Heaven. But I don't want to be forgotten on Earth. I don't want everyone to mourn me. I just want to be remembered. I want to do something with my life, because I can never really be sure whether I'll be alive the next minute, right?"

Orli reached out and covered her hand. "You would never be forgotten, and you've already made more than enough difference to more than enough people."

"Not enough," Jenn muttered obstinately. "Hey, I decided something."

"Yes?" Orli asked patiently.

"I decided what song I want to play at my funeral," Jenn announced, almost as though she expected Orli to be happy for her.

He stared. "All right," he said finally, and waited for her to speak.

"I want _This is Your Time_ from Michael W. Smith or _Warning_ from Incubus," she said. "Okay?"

"I hope I'm not around for that," Orli ventured to say, "I don't want to plan your funeral. It would mean I'd have to live without you."

Jenn's eyes filled. "But I don't want to live without you," she cried.

Orli cringed inwardly; having never been in quite such a situation before, he had no idea what exactly he was expected to do. "We'll die at the same time, then," he soothed her, wincing at how stupid he sounded.

Jenn opened her mouth, wiping the tears out of her eyes, just as the doorbell rang. Orli jumped up, expecting it to be dinner. Jenn made to get up and help him, but he held up a hand to stop her. "Don't worry, the delivery people will help me bring it in. You're not supposed to be lifting much anyway."

"Are you really eating that much?" Jenn asked, completely forgetting about the previous topic of conversation, and apparently not planning to have dinner at all.

"Yes," Orli told her. "And you are helping."

Jenn groaned, but couldn't entirely suppress a laugh.

"So I have a question," Michelle began, then stopped, clearly waiting for someone to display interest in the fact that she'd spoken. Jenn chanced half a glance at her before returning her gaze to her novel. She was only mildly surprised when Michelle snatched it out of her hands, narrowly missing her nose. She looked up again, mildly indignant.

"_What_, Michelle?" she demanded, attempting to sound exasperated while fighting off a laugh.

Michelle held the latest issue of _Cosmopolitan_ clenched in her left hand. Michelle didn't believe in _Cosmo_, but she said the articles "cracked her up." Now, she waved it around for emphasis as she asked, "Do people really do this? I mean, when they're having sex, do they actually stop to think, 'Okay, I've done this, what was the next step that magazine said?' I mean, isn't sex supposed to be like one of those things where you don't think about anything and sort of-"

"Let raw animal instincts take over?" Orli contributed.

Michelle looked shocked; Jenn misinterpreted her reasons. "Hey, Michelle, don't try to tell us you've never done it."

Michelle gave her a mild glare and addressed Orli. "That's exactly what I was thinking, I was actually getting ready to say."

Josh finally looked up. "I know I don't think about it," he said teasingly.

Michelle muttered something entirely incoherent, and Jenn decided it was definitely better not to ask for clarity. She shuddered, but it was no good. "I'm getting bad images!" she yelled.

Michelle reached over and swatted her. "Jenn! Shut up! We're in a restaurant!"

"Sitting next to a six-year-old boy and his mother, talking about wild sex," Orli contributed solemnly.

Michelle glanced up, looking abashed. "Oh. Dear." She smiled sweetly at the mother in question. "Sorry."

The mother glared at her, and Michelle looked offended. "I _apologized_," she insisted. "And quite charmingly. I thought."

Orli's eyebrows came together. "You overestimate your natural charm, Michelle."

She looked, if possible, even more offended.

"I still can't believe I'm really going to New Zealand," Jenn declared, neatly folding a shirt and tucking it into her third suitcase. It was June twenty-fifth, four days after the anniversary and two days after Michelle's unfortunate restaurant incident. Orli had presented her with a ticket over dinner on their anniversary. The two had narrowly avoided an argument over Jenn's "I'm pregnant and the babies are due any day, remember?" problem, but Orli had assured her that a private jet was a possible alternative, and Jenn _did_ want to see New Zealand.

Orli glanced up. "Jennifer, is all this really necessary?" he asked, moving her first suitcase off the bed to make room for his small bag.

Jennifer looked scandalized. "We'll be gone for almost a month! I want to be prepared!"

"For _what_," Orli yelped, wincing as his voice squeaked, "the _apocalypse_?"

"For… whatever," Jenn answered dismissively. "You just never know."

Orli rolled his eyes in exasperation. "It's not like we'll be all by ourselves in the middle of the wilderness in the dead of winter. There are _people_ there who can get stuff from the villages nearby. There's no need to pack everything you own."

"I like to be prepared," Jennifer insisted, and commenced ignoring him.

They both gathered their belongings in silence for the next ten minutes, until, without warning, Jennifer doubled over, clutching her stomach and gasping, her face contorted in obvious pain.

Orli ran out of the bathroom, a toothbrush in one hand and a razor in the other, looking alarmed. "Jenn, what's wrong?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Orli's face went pale as he remembered the words of the instructor at Planned Parenthood talking about childbirth: _If you can't talk during the contractions, this is the real thing!_ The instructor, a pretty young woman with dark brown hair who was far to skinny to have ever given birth, had sounded chipper and delighted as she delivered this news, but Orli saw nothing chipper and delightful about it. Jenn looked to be in very real pain.

"Okay… we're going to the hospital," he announced, trying to sound bright and not at all worried. "Now." Jenn nodded; Orli had the feeling she would have rolled her eyes if she could have summoned the energy.

He sat in the waiting room, bored. The nurse had confirmed that this was the real thing, but since it was Jennifer's first child- children- it might well be a while. He had called Josh and Michelle twenty minutes ago, knowing how furious they would be if they missed this, but so far they had not arrived. Orli had taken to pacing, but that quickly became irritating, so he'd sat down grudgingly, glaring at everyone, especially the two pre-teen girls waiting for God-knew-what with their father and eyeing him hopefully. Orli slunk low in his seat, praying not to be recognized.

"Orlando!" someone called, and Orli groaned. That was what he needed, an announcement of who he was. He slid down even lower in his chair, wishing he could disappear, and was wholly surprised when he received a light smack in the head. Glancing up, he saw Josh towering over him, and Michelle staring in concern. "You're about to fall off that chair," she informed him, and he glared at her. Hastily she added, "But hey, if that's what you're going for, more power to ya." With a nod, she indicated the two chairs on either side of him. "Those for us?"

"Go for it," he said wearily. "We have a long wait."

"We brought stuff to do!" Michelle said cheerily, depositing a mesh bag full of books, puzzles, a portable CD player and a card deck on the chair she was supposed to sit on. "Actually… I think I may have to find the restroom."

"There's one across the hall," Orli told her, pointing.

"Thanks," Michelle said, and leapt up. She did not, however, enter the restroom, but walked right past it, around the corner and out of sight.

"What was up with that?" Orli asked Josh, puzzled.

Josh looked just as confused. "Maybe she missed it. Michelle has a terrible sense of direction."

"It's _labeled_," Orli felt compelled to point out. "I didn't think it was _possible_ to miss it. I've already been in and out of the men's room twice, just for something to do. There are _big signs_ on those doors."

Josh shrugged. "Don't worry too much about it. She'll be back eventually."

"If she can't even find the _restroom_," Orli protested, "how will she manage to find her way back here?"

Jenn sighed, irritated. She'd been in the waiting room for nearly four hours, or so she was told. Some lady who'd been let in barely an hour ago was being wheeled out.

"Hey," Jenn called to the passing nurse. "What's up with this? That woman came in like an hour ago. I've been here too long. It's my turn!"

The nurse looked as though she was biting back a smile. "That woman, as you call her, has already had three babies. It just can't be helped. Three babies later, that will be you."

"I don't care about three babies later," Jenn muttered obstinately. "I care about _now_." But there was nothing to be done for it, so she exhaled- loudly- and fell back against the pillows, restless.

Orlando sighed, frowning at the puzzle Josh had brought him. Under normal circumstances, he would not have tolerated puzzles. Orli hated puzzles. But they'd been there for nearly six hours, and he needed something to do. His mind was literally buzzing. Orlando had never understood how a mind could be buzzing, but he could have sworn there were some very excitable bees trapped in his head. He tried glaring at the puzzle, but no luck. It was supposedly going to be a nice picturesque lighthouse, but so far it looked to Orli like five hundred very small pieces of cardboard.

Josh, sitting next to him, looked as though he were reading _The Da Vinci Code_, but his eyes were not moving across the print; in fact they were fixed on Orli. Josh's eyes danced with suppressed mirth. Orli, glancing up, noticed. "_What_?" he snapped irritably. It was why he didn't like puzzles that were more than perhaps fifty pieces. They just made him crabby.

Josh laughed out loud, loudly enough for Michelle, who had returned from her supposed trip to the restroom long ago and had evaded their questions about where she'd been ("The line was long." "But Michelle, you didn't even look." "I could tell") and was happily bouncing in her seat to the rhythm of whatever she was listening to in the portable CD player, either not noticing or altogether disregarding the stares she was attracting, to glance up and stop the CD player long enough to ask, "Is there a problem?"

Josh, for answer, pointed at Orli's puzzle, or rather, the pieces of it.

"So what?" Michelle asked, apparently confused. "Some people have a hard time with these things." She reached over, picked up a piece, studied it for a moment, and after no more than perhaps three rounds of trial and error, neatly snapped it to an appropriate piece. Placing it back on the table, she said, in a tone that was somehow both mocking and soothing, "There you go. Only four hundred ninety-nine pieces now." Orli just stared with his mouth open, but Michelle had already turned on the CD player again and appeared to have forgotten about Orlando and the puzzle entirely. Josh, noticing, shook his head amusedly. Occasionally someone would comment to him about his wife's infamously short attention span, and his response was always, "What attention span?"

Orli sighed, exasperated, and began to put the puzzle back in the box. Michelle raised her eyebrows, looking offended, but obviously couldn't be troubled to stop her music again to say anything.

Jennifer groaned, both from a fresh contraction and out of sheer boredom. "Can't we get someone in here to keep me company?" she asked a fourth nurse, having received a flat "no" from three nurses in a row and hoping yet again that this one would say something different. But no such luck.

"No," the nurse answered distractedly as she rushed past. "It's a maternity ward, not a visitor's ward."

"What the hell is the point of having to wait for ten hours if you can't have company?" Jenn asked snappishly, but the nurse had already passed. It was just as well; if Jenn had had to endure hearing "You're about to give birth! It will all be worth it later!" one more time, she felt she might implode, although she wasn't sure how exactly she would accomplish this. It just sounded very impressive, and she decided she would announce it to the next nurse who told her "no."

"Could I maybe…" she began as the next nurse passed, already laying out her implosion speech.

"Whatever it is, _no_," the nurse snapped, obviously quite bad-tempered herself. "It's bad enough they've actually allowed a _visitor_ in here."

"Well, too bad it's not _my_ visitor," Jenn returned huffily.

"I'm not?" a voice questioned, sounding hurt.

Jenn turned her head to find the owner of the voice, standing over her hospital bed and looking amused.

"I cannot believe you just yelled at that poor woman," he said. "She's having a hard time right now. Just had to deliver a baby herself. Her first ever. She's barely qualified, poor thing," he added conversationally.

"Orli." It was the only word Jennifer could manage. Summoning up her energy, she continued, "How did you get them to let you in? Every time I asked for a visitor I got yelled at."

Orli's eyes twinkled. "I'm special."

"And I'm not?"

"Did you hear me say that?"

"I believe there was a clear implication."

"You are special."

"When do I get _out_ of here?" she half-wailed, shifting restlessly.

But at that precise moment, a nurse swept over, performed a quick examination, and announced briskly to a standby nurse, "She's ready to be taken to a delivery room now."

"YES," Jenn yelled, in both relief and disbelief. It felt a little extreme to her, however, that she had to be wheeled out of the room on her bed. As when she and Michelle had been in the wreck, nobody seemed to believe that she was capable of walking and in fact very much wanted to use her legs again. She resisted the powerful urge to complain, since she finally felt as though she were getting somewhere, accomplishing something.

"Just keep breathing," the doctor urged. Jenn glared. The doctor was a pretty young woman; Jenn estimated her to be in her mid-thirties. She had a friendly look, but at the moment Jennifer was trying too hard to breathe to really care.

"I _am_ breathing," she responded irritably. "Like I'm going to _stop_ breathing."

"You can never be sure of the side effects for each individual patient," the doctor answered professionally, but Jenn could have sworn she was fighting off a smile. She turned to her husband, wanting sanity.

"Hey, Orli," she said in between gasping breaths. "We never had a baby shower, and this whole Lamaze theory doesn't seem to be working out for me."

"Are those two thoughts even related?" he wondered aloud, and Jennifer groaned, her hopes of finding comfort from her husband dashed. She fell silent, and consequently noticed the footsteps outside the door, and a familiar voice raised in indignation.

"I can't see us just sitting here while Orli runs off to be with Jenn," Josh commented, annoyed. "He could have thought this whole thing through a little better. What's the point of being here if we can't _be _there for Jennifer?"

Michelle glanced up from _The Da Vinci Code_, which Josh had given up on a long time ago. Michelle was a devout Christian, Catholic in fact, and though the entire book was a blatant attack on Christianity and the Catholic Church in particular, she found it endlessly fascinating. "Josh, you just want to feel special. Orli is Jenn's _husband_. When I have a baby, I think I'd rather you there than him, if there could only be one person."

"What do you mean, _when_?" Josh asked suspiciously. "The doctors at the fertility clinic…"

Michelle sighed, folded over her page, closed the book and adjusted herself in her chair so that her legs curled under her. "I never got a chance to tell you. I just found out the other day myself, and in all the excitement over Jennifer, I didn't feel like it was the right time to bring it up."

"Are you…" Josh's voice trailed off in apparent disbelief.

Michelle blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Yes. Actually, I just went over to the pregnancy ward before to have it officially confirmed. Lucky coincidence I had an appointment at almost the same time Orli called us- except that I don't believe in coincidence." Her green eyes were level, not betraying her eagerness and excitement. Josh supposed she felt it was more appropriate to focus on Jennifer's day, but he couldn't help feeling like jumping up and shouting. Years of acting saved him from making a fool of himself right there in the small waiting room. "Really?" he managed to say.

Michelle smiled suddenly. Josh had always marveled at how her smiles so utterly altered her face. When Michelle smiled, every fiber of her being seemed to light up with a special kind of almost tangible joy that never failed to make Josh want to reach out and hold her, so her happiness could rub off on him. "Really," she confirmed, eyes sparkling.

Josh pulled her close. "This has been a hell of a day," he murmured to himself, a massive understatement. For a few blessed moments neither of them spoke, simply absorbing this new reality. Then Josh jumped up suddenly.

"I still want to be there," he declared, and Michelle knew what he was talking about, and knew him well enough not to argue, so she stood up in quiet resignation and gathered what she called their "playtime materials" from the table in front of her. She straightened and followed Josh down the hall Orli had disappeared down a few minutes before.

"What do you mean you can't let us in? _Do you know who I am_?" Josh yelled.

The nurse outside the delivery room that housed Jenn and Orli was unimpressed. "Family members are allowed in. Are you family?"

Michelle cut in. "Godparents."

The nurse was skeptical. "Yeah? Are you blood relatives?"

Michelle hesitated. "Not exactly." Josh swore silently. If Michelle had one flaw, even in his eyes, it was that she was honest to a fault.

The nurse rolled her eyes and started to move away. Josh waited until she was gone, then pulled on the door handle. To his surprise, he came face-to-face with Orli, who apparently had come to let them in. "Hi," Josh said lamely, suddenly embarrassed about his encounter with the nurse. Orli, however, merely looked amused and waved them inside.

Jennifer looked up. "Oh, no. We do not need everyone here to witness this! Come see the babies when they're _outside_ of me."

Michelle did not look surprised, and turned to leave. "No," Jenn said. "You can stay. You're a girl, right? Yeah, you can stay."

Michelle looked more alarmed than reassured.

For the purpose of sanity, and to write more about the things about which I am knowledgeable, rather than those things of which I can only guess at, we will say little of the birthing process, save that it occurred. Fast-forward perhaps half an hour.

After nine months of pregnancy, nine months of morning sickness and odd cravings for pickles and ice cream at the same time, nine months of weight gain and pain and the desperate thought that she would no longer be a size six, Jennifer could not believe this moment had finally come. She looked down into two little red faces, quiet now after fifteen minutes of endless crying, quiet now that Jennifer had fed them. One nestled in the crook of her left arm, one in her right. A girl and a boy. Allyson Michelle and Nicholas Joshua. Ally and Nick, she would call them. Middle names given for obvious reasons. Both had inquisitive blue eyes that would probably, considering their parents, turn hazel or brown in a few years. Both of them had wisps of dark brown hair, like their father. But when they smiled… that was Jennifer's smile, all the way. They smiled, and she smiled back.

Orli had already held his babies and exclaimed over them, and he and Josh had courteously left when the nurse taught Jennifer how to breast-feed. They crept quietly back in, unnoticed, as Michelle lifted Allyson out of Jenn's arms and cradled her in her own.

"Hey, you know," Josh said quietly to Orlando, not wanting to interrupt the girls' moment, "Michelle just told me she's pregnant too."

"Yeah?" Orli asked, but he wasn't surprised. "She'll be a great mother."

"Yeah," Josh agreed. "Jenn's going to be wonderful, I can already tell."

They stood a few feet back and watched their two beautiful girls holding Jennifer's newborn babies, both smiling and unaware that they were being observed. A warm, happy glow started in Orli's heart and diffused throughout his entire body. On a very un-manly impulse, Josh stepped over and draped an arm around Orlando's shoulder. "We are two very lucky guys," he told him.

"Yeah," Orli smiled. "Yeah. We are."


	18. Chapter 18

Jenn smiled down at her tiny babies as a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. It was all so overwhelming; she wanted to laugh and cry and jump for joy and sink down into the pillows and sleep, all at the same time. She thought of Orli, telling her he'd wait if she wasn't ready to have kids, and knew now that she was, that this was what she'd been born to do. Oh, yeah. She cradled those five-pound wonders in her arms and thought of the stories she'd tell them, about how she was in labor with them for twelve hours. She imagined dressing Allyson up in little doll clothes and taking her for a walk in a stroller she had yet to buy. She imagined Nicholas trying to wrestle with his father, and Orli letting his son win, and telling him how tough he was. She imagined Orli letting Ally climb on him and sit on him and read storybooks. She imagined herself chastising Nick for being too loud with his toy cars and getting dirty when he played in the mud with his friends down the block. She could see it all playing out before her eyes, even as she sat in a stuffy hospital delivery room.

She snapped back to the present as a nurse lifted little Ally and Nick out of her arms, talking softly about an incubator for the night. Jenn was reluctant to hand over her children to a complete stranger.

The nurse in question turned to Josh, Orli and Michelle. "You'll have to leave. We're going to keep Mrs. Bloom overnight. It's a standard procedure, and I can't imagine where you'd stay."

"No," Orli said instantly. "We are not-" He began to raise his voice, feeling impatient with nurses and hospitals in general.

The nurse ushered the three outside and followed them. The door closed with a soft _snap. _But Jennifer found that she didn't particularly care. She was sleepy, so sleepy. And she'd have the next few years of her life to be awake, far more often than she'd like. She drifted off into pleasant dreams that she couldn't remember later.

Jenn awoke several hours later, refreshed and alone. The room was dark. She automatically reached for a light, momentarily forgetting where she was. As she recalled the events of the past sixteen hours, she stopped looking for a light. By the lack of sunlight coming through the tiny privacy window high on the wall, she estimated it to be late night or very early morning. But there was a full moon shining down on the floor at the foot of her bed, and deep, steady breathing coming from the same spot.

Jenn sat up fast, heart racing, wondering who on earth could be asleep at the foot of her little hospital bed. But even as she sat up, she realized who it must be, and almost laughed out loud.

Sure enough, Josh, Orli and Michelle were all at the foot of the bed, asleep. Jennifer silently swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up, wanting a better look at these three crazy people, whom she loved so dearly, who, apparently, would do absolutely anything they wanted to do- especially for her- never mind the decrees of the powers that were. Jenn remembered how the nurse had shooed them out of the room to try and make them leave. But any one of them on his or her own was stubborn and unmovable, and the three of them together were a formidable force not to be reckoned with. No way was a wimpy nurse marauding around and stealing Jenn's babies going to get her way over theirs. Thinking about what must have gone down while she fell asleep, Jenn almost laughed aloud again.

She tiptoed around the bed to see them better, and smiled. It made for a sweet picture: Michelle sat in between Josh and Orli, her hand laced with Josh's, and her head, for some reason Jenn would have to demand an explanation for, on Orli's shoulder. Orli had his arm across Michelle's back, and his hand rested on Josh's shoulder. Orli and Josh had their heads titled towards each other over Michelle, who, even sitting, didn't rise to either man's shoulders. Michelle was smiling happily, Josh was muttering something about sheep, and Orli was frowning slightly, as though there should have been another person on his left in that darkened hospital room.

As though he sensed her sudden wakefulness, Orli opened his eyes and smiled at Jenn. "Have a nice nap?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Jenn smiled. "You don't look that comfortable down there."

Orli waved the hand that wasn't slung across Michelle's back. "We're doing great down here. Never had a better night's sleep."

By this time Josh was awake too. "Hi," he murmured simply. "What are you doing? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Jenn laughed softly. "I have to find a restroom," and it was true. She needed food, and water, and a bathroom, and a nice hot shower, all very soon.

"Mind if I take a walk with you?" Orli asked, attempting to get up.

"No," Jenn said quickly. "Don't wake Michelle."

"Not sleeping," Michelle muttered. Jenn rolled her eyes. Even when she wasn't awake, Michelle was determined to be obstinate.

Josh laughed softly and pulled Michelle against himself so Orli could free his arm. "Go take a walk," he told Jenn and Orli. "You deserve it."

"He's not following me into the restroom," Jenn protested. "I don't want you to have to get up…" She trailed off as Orli rose and Michelle nestled herself against her own husband. "Or you could come," she finished lamely.

Josh smiled and closed his eyes, apparently satisfied.

Jenn and Orli stepped into the hall and looked around, lost. "Do you know where the restroom is?" Jenn asked her companion.

Unfortunately for her, Orli looked just as perplexed. "Not around here. But," he added, "I can tell you exactly where the restrooms by the waiting room are."

Jenn groaned. "I'm _sorry_. I didn't mean to take so long!"

Orli laughed and pulled her into a hug, his chin resting on top of her head. Life was best at these sorts of small, seemingly trivial moments, when he could still smell the lingering scent of that morning's shampoo, and feel her small body surrounding him.

They took a longer walk than they had to, both for time alone and to extend the same courtesy to Josh and Michelle. Orli's cell phone rang, but he turned it off just to give everything to the moment. Other people could wait; he was with his wife. Orli even ran out for fast food for Jenn, who refused to live on hospital food a second time. Overall, they took nearly an hour and a half walking aimlessly, laughing when they discovered they were lost and finding their way back to the maternity ward. They stumbled in, laughing over a joke that wouldn't have been funny had they been fully awake, at nearly two in the morning.

A cursory glance of the room revealed no Josh or Michelle. Orli and Jenn figured they'd gone off for their own private walk and would be back in their own good time. Nobody rushed those two. Jenn climbed back into bed and offered to share with Orli, but he declined, saying she needed her comfort, and the bed wasn't nearly big enough, anyway. He sat on the end as they talked softly of the future.

It hadn't been five minutes before the door crashed open and Josh ran noisily in, looking around in desperation, but apparently not able to see them yet in the darkness.

"Josh," Jenn called softly, "over here."

"What'd you do with-" Orli started to say, but never found the chance to ask where Michelle was. Josh rushed over toward the sounds of their voices, stumbling over something that provoked a string of curses. "I tried calling you..." he began, out of breath and frantic.

"Josh," Orli began. "Slow down. Just sit for a minute."

But something was wrong. Jennifer had never seen tranquil, composed Josh in such a panic before. She could only imagine something had happened to Michelle- but just then, Michelle came running in behind him. Her eyes were wide and frightened, but Michelle had seen some painful things before, and come out of them unscathed- physically, at least. She merely took a deep breath, forced herself to calmly say, "We may have a bit of a problem," and proceeded to pull at the sleeve of Jenn's hospital gown, nearly ripping it. Jenn, confused, simply followed Michelle out of the room and down the hall.

Jenn grew worried, imaging all the terrible things that might have happened, and wondering what could possibly be so terrible to begin with. After all, they were there, all four of them- and then she remembered. There weren't just four of them anymore. There were six, and the other two were not accounted for. She fought off the urge to panic, wishing someone would tell her what was wrong. It had to be serious, if Josh had lost it.

They arrived outside a small room moments later. Jenn, mystified, stepped inside to be greeted by a scene the likes of which could have rivaled the situations on _E.R._ There were no less than six people crowded around a small operating table, and Jennifer was suddenly afraid of who lay on that operating table. Looking around, she saw a similar scene across the room.

"What happened?" she heard Orli demand roughly of Michelle.

"They don't know for sure," Michelle answered, sounding far away. "They think it's something to do with the car accident in March."

"Like _what_? How could a car wreck… why were you in a wreck to begin with?" Orli sounded angry, almost as though he blamed Michelle.

"Orli, I can't explain this away. Nothing I say is going to make it better. If it helps, they're still optimistic." Michelle sounded neither angry nor offended, to her credit.

"Yeah? Who's optimistic?" Orli growled. Jenn knew he was trying to cover up his very real fear of this unexpected situation.

"The doctors," Michelle said simply. "Orli, it's out of your hands. Just calm down, and pray, or do something constructive. Yelling at me won't help."

Her calm tones were infuriating, but Orli knew she was right. He wasn't a terribly religious sort, although life with Jenn had begun to change that. But praying, talking to someone he couldn't see, still seemed alien to him. He tried anyway.

_Hi, God. My little babies were just born a few hours ago and- well, I guess You know what's going on. You wouldn't take them from me like this, would You? Well, not even from _me_. I know there'll be other chances. But God, what about Jennifer? Doesn't she deserve something for all those months she was carrying these babies? And now they're finally here and You're just going to take them from us? I know You could snap Your fingers and make it better, or whatever it is You actually do. Come on, Lord. Please._ He ran out of words at the end. Michelle was right. This wasn't his battle. He looked around the room with a new sort of calm as a voice in his head said, _All is not lost. Have hope still._ So, he did.

Jennifer, in the meantime, had slumped against the nearest wall, temporarily forgotten as Orli panicked and tried to pray. She herself was too stunned to pray. She couldn't believe nine months had led to this end. So she sat with her head in her hands, staring blankly at her knees.

Josh had already gone to speak to the doctors- for the fourth or fifth time, if Jenn could have known it. He'd been going back and forth, desperate for some kind of information, on the philosophy that knowing was better than wondering, and had been shooed away repeatedly, told that the doctors needed to focus on their delicate procedures and had no time to answer questions at the moment, which Josh found acutely unfair.

Michelle pulled Orli over to sit beside Jenn on her stretch of wall, while she herself sat on Jenn's other side. Her voice was not particularly fine, but she sang softly, almost whispering.

Yeah I know it hurts 

_Yeah I know you're scared_

_Walking down the road that leads to who-knows-where_

_Don't you hang your head_

_Don't you give up yet_

_When courage starts to disappear_

_I will be right here_

Michelle pulled Jenn into a one-way hug. "It'll be okay," she whispered.

But Jenn had a hard time believing her. How could it be okay? Something was very, very wrong. And the doctors wouldn't tell them anything. They just kept working diligently, and that alarmed Jenn quite as much as any news could. How bad could it be?

_When your world breaks down_

_And the voices tell you "Turn around"_

_When your dreams give out_

_I will carry you… carry you_

_When the stars go blind_

_And the darkness starts to flood your eyes_

_When you're falling behind_

I will carry you 

Jenn couldn't believe this was happening. It felt like she'd stepped into a dream- a nightmare, really. What had happened to her daydreams of hours before? How could she scold Nick for playing in the mud and being too noisy if he didn't live past the next few minutes? How would Ally read her storybooks with Orlando while Jenn smiled on and took pictures of them if Ally didn't survive? No, she decided, it was not happening. It wasn't happening, and therefore she didn't have to deal with it.

But five minutes later, as the doctor placed Allyson Michelle back in Jenn's arms, she knew she'd been wrong. She could deal with this. And she would, because she was still going to be the mother of a living child. Drifting slowly back to reality, she realized her face was wet with tears. But despite herself, despite still not knowing about Nick, she smiled as Allyson made a soft cooing noise in her arms. Jenn drifted into a dreamless sleep against Orli.

She woke up a half hour later and smiled to see Ally in Orli's arms. Like Jenn, Orli was still worried, but not so much that he couldn't enjoy Ally. She was so very cute, and when she gave her toothless baby smile, it made him laugh out loud.

Josh sidled up next on Jenn's other side, and sat there without saying anything. Jenn was happy: so this was how Michelle had felt, falling asleep in between them, content, protected, as though there was nothing in the world that could not be fixed as long as she was surrounded by Orli and Josh.

She glanced up to see the doctor speaking to Michelle, who was shaking her head vehemently and pointing at Jenn and Orli. The doctor gave up on her and walked over to the wall. Jenn rose immediately. "How's Nick?" she asked anxiously, almost wincing at the raw vulnerability in her voice.

The doctor's face was kindly, but grave. He gave her hand a soft squeeze before speaking. "Their names are Allyson and Nicholas, correct?" When Jennifer verified, he continued. "Allyson looks like she'll be fine. Her heart started racing out of control, but we managed to slow it down. She'll have a small problem with her left leg, meaning she may not be able to walk as early as other children, or she might need physical therapy around the time she should start walking. Other than that, she's fine." Jenn sagged with relief that something, at least, had gone right.

Orli sat still in the corner, cradling Allyson, as a thought came to him. He remembered a song that had always moved Jenn to tears… something about a man begging God for his son's life. Orli wasn't sure his first pray had gone entirely well, so instead he conjured up the words to the song.

Can you hear me? Am I getting through tonight? 

_Can you see him? Can you make it feel all right?_

_If you can hear me, let me take his place somehow._

_See, he's not just anyone… he's my son._

Oddly, he heard that voiceless voice again. _I gave you a daughter. Is that not enough?_ Orli sighed. _I don't mean to sound ungrateful. It's just that a little baby is over there dying, and he's my son. What am I supposed to do, give up on him because I have a daughter?_

There was no answer.

Jenn leaned back against the wall for support as the doctor gave the diagnosis on little Nick. It was not very encouraging. Heart racing; lung collapsing; hours of delicate, painstaking surgery required; poor chance of survival without surgery; small chance even with it. Jenn sat back down, too weak to stand any longer. The passing hours were dark, bringing with them little promise.

Jenn walked uphill. It wasn't even a hill, really, just elevated land. Still, she hadn't exercised enough during her pregnancy, and so as she walked on, she felt her legs burn a little. But it felt good. Something had to burn. She'd been burning inside, raging at the world for days. She was spent. She needed something constructive to do.

Which was why she'd come out here. Orli was with her, but he lagged behind, whether to support her if she stumbled or because he was afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing, Jenn didn't know. She knew had hadn't been much fun to live with these past few days, but she found she really didn't care. She didn't care about much these days- they'd be leaving together for New Zealand in less than two days, but she hadn't even begun to think about packing. Ally was in Orli's arms, wrapped in a little baby blanket, but looking at her brought back memories, and not just of a dark hospital room at three in the morning. Somehow, Jenn connected Ally with the car wreck also. Looking at her baby girl hurt.

Orli still hung back as Jenn reached her destination. The walk had accumulated in a grassy little knoll perhaps a dozen feet above sea level. It had taken a drive to get to the Jersey shore, but Orli didn't mind. Orli never minded. Jenn had made her request, and he'd taken her out here without asking a single question. He really was a good husband, Jenn knew. She pulled the small ceramic jar close to her chest for a moment, lost in sorrowful memories. It was such a tiny little container for a human being. But then, Nick had been so very small. And his ashes took up even less space.

Weeping a little, she pulled the cover off the jar. Jenn wasn't worried about keeping clean; she reached right in. The ashes clung to her hand, staining it black like Nick's death had stained her heart. She pulled the ashes out, clenched them tightly to her heart, and then stretched her hand over the ocean, and released. It would have been unbearable to look at that little jar in her house every day and think of her infant son inside. No, this way his body could float on the water, out in the open. It was the only way she would have it, and Orli had raised no objections. She held her hand out over the ocean like there was no tomorrow. But still the ashes clung to her, and her tears drew pale streaks against all the black, and that was okay.

"I don't want to see her," Jenn told Orli.

He looked surprised. "But she's your best friend."

Jenn shrugged. "So?"

"So why wouldn't you want to see her?" Poor Orli, he didn't understand. Jenn felt sorry for him. She should explain.

"Do you know why Nick died?" she asked instead.

Orli still looked surprised. "Because his heart raced out of control and a lung collapsed. They couldn't fix that in time."

"And do you know why his heart raced out of control and a lung collapsed?" Jenn asked patiently.

"Because you were in a car wreck in March," Orli answered automatically. He gasped as he realized the significance of what he'd said. "You're not serious."

Jenn shrugged again.

Orli tried once more. "Jennifer, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's no one to blame for that." He cradled Ally against his chest; she sucked happily on a bottle that he held in his other hand.

"Maybe things could have been a little different," Jenn said simply, too tired to try and explain. Part of her knew she was being irrational, but most of her only knew that her baby had died.

"Different how? They _both_ could've died, Jenn." The voice wasn't Orli's. Jenn shouldn't have been surprised that Michelle had simply walked into the house, as she'd done hundreds of times before. Now Michelle sat down in a chair directly opposite Jenn, who avoided her steady green gaze. Orli offered little Ally to Michelle; clearly he was tired of holding her.

Michelle pulled Ally into her arms and leaned forward to stare at Jenn until Jenn reluctantly met her gaze. "Do you think I haven't had so many nightmares about the wreck? Do you think I've never wondered if there was something different I could have done? Do you think I never once believed the wreck was my fault?" Jenn was surprised by her anguished tone; Michelle had never voiced these feelings. She'd seemed to completely shrug off the fact of the accident. Jenn told her as much.

Michelle leaned back and shrugged. "I don't show it as much, Jennifer. That's different. I can't change what happened any more than I can get rid of the haunting thought that maybe it's my fault your son is dead." Jenn flinched at the word, but Michelle ploughed on, "I've barely slept in days. That thought keeps me up. Seeing you like this tears me up. It tears up Orli, and Josh, because we're sitting back and watching you hurt, but you want to be unreachable, and you won't let any of us help." Tears were filling her eyes as she spoke. "I know you blame me. But I also know you know better than that. Some things just aren't meant to be, Jennifer, and I'm sorry this wasn't, but you have to believe that nobody could have changed this." She leaned forward again, her intensity astonishing. "When we were younger, every time I teased you and said you were a pessimist, you always told me you _weren't_. So prove it. You didn't walk out of that hospital with nothing. Don't you think it's time you remembered that?" She handed over Ally, and Jenn took her, dazed.

"Thank you," she whispered, and laughed suddenly. It was a genuine laugh, the likes of which she hadn't expected to hear out of herself for a long, long time. "I needed someone to bite my ass off."

Michelle smiled too, and pointed at Ally. "Don't let your daughter hear you saying bad words."

And Jenn laughed again. She knew nothing would bring her son back, and for that she would always hurt. But she had a daughter, too, and for that she would always thank God. She stood up to get more milk from the kitchen and she knew it would be fine.


	19. Chapter 19

Jennifer sniffled as her father wrapped an arm around her. It had been a week since she'd accepted the way things had played out over her babies, and they were in a small church, just the four of them, along with their parents and a few close friends, listening to a preacher talking a lot about Heaven, and the "Great Beyond," a phrase he seemed fond of. Little Nick's death had been highly publicized in the tabloids, which was why the funeral was so small: It was hard to gather everyone together without the media finding out and asking stupid questions. Jennifer could just picture that: a reporter asking, "How do you feel about this, Mrs. Bloom?" and herself responding, "Um, I feel great." She'd grown to loathe the media over the years, since that one single night in which she'd met the man who would become her husband, and her entire life had changed.

The preacher finished his speech, which he'd probably given a thousand times before, and stepped down from the pulpit as a slow, mournful tune drifted quietly out of the speakers. Jenn listened to the words and almost smiled; the idea of playing Mark Schultz's _Remember Me_ had been timidly suggested by Michelle, who looked very frightened that Jenn would either break down crying or start screaming when she'd said it. Jenn and Orli stepped outside, followed closely by their parents, Josh and Michelle. The grass was wet and dewy with last night's rain, leaving grass stains on Jenn's white pumps. Heedless, she followed Orli to a small patch of grass they'd chosen three days before.

_Nicholas Joshua Bloom_, the headstone read simply. _Died at birth. Loved and missed_. They'd opted for a small marble carving of an angel holding the headstone, watching over it, and over Nicholas himself.

Jenn couldn't hold back her tears, but she felt more peaceful than she had in weeks. Somehow, with this moment, everything was falling into place. She wasn't leaving Nick behind, but she was putting him to rest, moving on with her life even though almost every waking moment was devoted to thoughts of him. Orli came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her while Josh cradled Allyson. Jenn watched Josh closely, not because she was paranoid, but because she was absorbing the sweetness of the moment. In two weeks' time Allyson would be baptized as a nondenominational Christian. Josh and Michelle were Catholic, but Jenn and Orli had discussed this, and didn't care; there were simply no other godparents for their little girl. Jenn was already fantasizing the baptism ceremony; looking at pictures of her own baptism had always made her intensely curious and strangely desirous. Even as she watched Nick's headstone being erected not five feet from where she stood, she watched Josh swing Ally up into the air, laughing softly, and his joy was so incompressible that she had to smile too.

It occurred to Jenn again, as it had in the hospital, that they'd never had a baby shower. It made her sad, as though they'd already missed out on the first milestone of parenthood. But small matter- she had diapers to buy. Orli had been up all night with Ally and looked beat in the morning; Jennifer had recommended a good long sleep, and he'd seemed keen on the idea, practically pushing her out the door and handing over Ally as she went. So she'd taken Ally with her to go buy more diapers- the baby ran through them like no other, Jenn was sure. She also went out in search of bassinets- Ally had been using her old bassinet, with Orli's old baby blankets, but both bassinet and blankets showed the passage of over twenty years and had clearly been much used; Orli and Jenn agreed that they wouldn't do at all on a permanent basis.

Jenn was frustrated, looking at the bassinets- nothing seemed _right_. It was all too cheap or too tacky or too outrageously expensive or too uncomfortable-looking. She sighed, gave up, purchased four packages of diapers, and headed home, Ally firmly strapped to her car seat, a much-needed and readily accepted gift from Jenn's parents.

It took nearly twice as long as usual to get home; traffic was terrible for absolutely no reason. She was mildly ill tempered by the time she pulled into the driveway, thinking she might put Ally down for a nap and join Orlando in sleep.

She almost dropped Ally in shock as she walked into the kitchen and heard about two dozen voices crying in unison, "Surprise!" She flashed back to Orli's surprise birthday party and laughed at herself, embarrassed.

Sidling up to her husband, she asked curiously, "What's all this about?"

He laughed and pushed her gently towards the crowd of people all watching her. "You wanted a baby shower. Better late than never."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Really?" She winced as her voice shot up two octaves, but he just smiled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Really. Go mingle."

"Where's Ally?" she asked automatically, and realized, so this is what being a parent is all about. Your first concern is always for your children.

Orli laughed. "You're holding her."

Jenn looked down with a start; Ally, pleased with the attention, gurgled happily. "So I am."

Orli reached to take Ally, with a smile for Jenn. "Go on, have some fun. I'll take care of her for awhile."

"You need to enjoy yourself too," Jenn protested halfheartedly.

"Nah," Orli answered dismissively. "This is your baby shower. Enjoy yourself- really. Before long we'll be in New Zealand and I won't have much time to take Ally off your hands."

Jenn, having been relieved of her baby, clapped her hands like a delighted schoolgirl. "Do you know, I'd almost completely forgotten about that, with everything that's happened lately. We leave the day after tomorrow, don't we?"

"That we do," Orli said, then added with a laugh, "and you still have your three suitcases mostly packed. Not much to do but wait around for two days."

The baby shower had been a wild success. Orli, having been planning the whole thing in secret for weeks, had kept the number of celebrity friends to a minimum, reluctant to involve the press in yet another aspect of their lives. Still, they had received the needed bassinet, along with a crib from Josh and Michelle, half a dozen baby blankets, a smart changing table, a brand-new high chair, countless numbers of baby toys, an expensive pair of intercoms for when they moved Allyson into her own room and a little musical mobile to hang over her crib. Jennifer was surprised and delighted with the whole thing, and even Orli couldn't quite believe the generosity of their friends. At the moment, however, they had more pressing matters at hand.

"Jenn!" Orli called in desperation. "They're waiting! Come on!"

"I'm _coming_!" she called back, hastily brushing out her tangled hair. There would be no time to dry it. For all Orli's prediction that there would be little to do since they were mostly packed, Jenn had woken up exactly four hours before flight time and convinced herself that she had thousands of things to do. She had consequently spent two frantic hours running around, repacking, adding things to the separate bag she had packed for Ally, and fighting off a panic attack as she tried not to think what would happen if they ran out of diapers, forgetting that there just might be babies, and therefore diapers for sale, even in New Zealand.

Technically, they should have been there the week before, but since Ally was just days old, Jenn's doctors had advised against taking her on a plane halfway across the world at least until she and Orli were more comfortable feeding her, calming her down when she cried and learning what it took to be parents of a newborn. Jenn was very glad for that extra week, but even still it didn't seem to be enough.

"Stop worrying about your hair!" Orli bellowed from the hallway, and Jenn almost screamed in sheer frustration- how could he possibly know what she was doing? Why did Orli know everything? Why was Orli always right? Why was Orli the only one packed?

"I'm not worrying about my hair!" she called in response, a blatant lie. There was no answer from the hallway, and Jenn sighed in relief, all the while desperately running the brush through the knots that had suddenly taken up residence in her hair.

The door crashed open. "I _told_ you!" Orli cried triumphantly. "Forget your hair. Our flight leaves in two hours and it's almost an hour to the airport."

"Why did we have to pick an airport that's an hour away?" Jenn asked, sadly looking at the knotty mass on top of her head.

"It was easiest," he answered shortly. Jenn knew he was just anxious to leave, so she decided to drop the subject and say nothing about the private jet he had ensured her he'd be able to get if necessary.

"Where's Ally?" she asked instead, wondering simultaneously how often she would be repeating the phrase in the next eighteen or so years.

Orli indicated the open door with a tilt of his head. "Josh is strapping her in her carseat."

"They leaving the BMW at the airport all month?" Jenn asked, more to make conversation than anything else.

"Not a lot of choice- cabs would be too expensive for an hour's drive. They don't care."

"Eh," Jenn responded as she pulled her enormous toilet bag off the sink top and threw along with her brush into her fifth suitcase, lying open at her feet.

"Now let's _go_," Orli insisted, seizing the suitcase without giving her a chance to protest and racing out the door with it.

"Hey-" Jenn yelled, running after him with her flatiron in hand.

She caught up with him outside as he loaded her suitcase into the trunk. "NO," she yelled fruitlessly, needing her brush back, and also not wishing to carry around her straightener. It was too late- Orli slammed the trunk, ran inside to flip off the bathroom lights (completely ignoring Jenn's openmouthed, wordless protest to his treatment of her luggage), and ran back out to lock the door and urge her ahead of him into the car.

"Orli-" she began as they sat down and buckled their seatbelts.

"Hey guys," Josh interrupted, turning around from the driver's seat with a smile.

Orli looked to Josh. "How's it going?"

"_Orli-_" Jenn interrupted, trying to make her voice more insistent.

Michelle twisted around to give her own greetings. As her eyes rested on Jenn, she turned back around and produced a hairbrush from her purse. Jenn's eyebrows shot way up. "Is it that bad?" she asked.

Michelle's silence was answer enough. Jenn sighed and began to yank the brush through her stubborn, unruly hair.

"This is not happening," Orli said in disbelief. "This is not happening. This is not happening."

"Because you know," Josh said irritably, "if you say it enough, you don't need a genie to make your wish come true."

"Relax, Josh," Michelle chimed in mildly. "Orli has more reason than the rest of us to be upset."

Josh muttered himself into aggravated silence as Jenn leaned over to Orli. "We'll get to New Zealand," she promised. "Even if we're sitting on the highway in park for the rest of the week."

It was, by the most horrible luck devised by mankind, a forest fire that had sprung up just a few miles off the highway and was causing major delays as fire trucks and police raced past. For some obscure reason, they'd shut down all but one lane. Police were directing traffic about twenty miles up the road, or so the radio said. It did not look like the car was getting anywhere anytime soon, and Orli was in a state of near panic; Josh, behind the wheel, was downright cranky.

Ally began to cry softly, wiggling in her car seat. Seeing as they weren't moving, Jenn chanced lifting her out to cradle her, but after a moment's hesitation, she gave her over to Orli. Even Orli had to smile when he watched the way his daughter stopped crying when he held her to his chest, rocking her gently back and forth, for one moment forgetting the seizing conviction that they would probably miss their flight.

Josh sighed loudly, clearly not at all charmed by Ally's charming ways. Jenn stifled a smile and said, "I feel like we should be singing campfire songs."

"Or playing some really hick country music?" Michelle chimed in hopefully. It was just about the only area where all four of them had entirely different tastes: music. Every time any of them went out together, a minor fight ensued over what music to listen to. Michelle, not terribly pushy at the best of times, usually ended up feeling bad about turning on country music when the person next to her didn't like it. Today was not an exception, with a vehement "_No_" from three separate mouths. Michelle slumped down in her seat. "Well, I'm out of ideas."

"That was your one brilliant idea?" Orli asked, trying to make conversation and kill the agonizing minutes that slipped slowly through his fingers like cornbread muffins (ever had 'em?) as he sat motionless and unable to go anywhere.

Michelle, who had turned the radio station to Christian music, was no longer listening and smiled as she heard no objections to her musical selection this time. Josh suddenly laughed aloud as the cars in front of them began to move, and he hit a gas- perhaps a little too enthusiastically, but he could almost be forgiven. Almost, except that Orli was still cradling Allyson. The sudden lurch of the car jerked him backwards and upset Ally enough for her to give an earsplitting yell. "_Josh_," Jenn cried, knowing instantly that it could take a half hour to calm her down.

Josh glanced backward. "Sorry." Orli just rolled his eyes.

They arrived exactly thirty minutes before their flight was due to leave, Ally still upset, but crying more softly now. By the time they got through security, they had fifteen minutes left, still carrying all their luggage (there had been no time to get in checked in yet) and were informed that they had to arrive an hour ahead of time to be let on an international flight. The lady checking tickets, a young woman in her early thirties, told them quite positively there was a rather excellent chance that their seats had been given away to standby passengers.

"But they were first-class seats," Orli protested, fighting down the impatience. "They don't give those to standbys."

The lady glanced at them all, taking in Orli's aggravation, Josh's anger, Jenn's flustered look as she tried without success to calm Ally, and Michelle's acute irritation at the whole situation. "There's really nothing I can do," she told them, sounding sincerely apologetic.

Orli let fly a string of expletives. The ticket lady gave him a hard look. "Please remove yourself from my presence if you're going to swear like that," she ordered. "I said there's nothing I can do. If there were, I would be doing everything possible. Unfortunately, arriving early for international flights is standard procedure. I'm sure you were informed of it when you purchased your tickets."

"We weren't informed of the brush fire right off the highway," Josh protested.

The lady rolled her eyes. "I forgot to send out those memos. Sorry."

"Maybe you should make up for it now," Orli suggested.

She almost laughed, and pointed out the customer service desk nearby. "Go talk to them. If there's even a slim chance you can get on this flight, they'll know."

Orli raced over to explain the predicament, hardly daring to hope.

"I have not flown coach class in years," Josh grumbled. "It's so… tacky here."

Jenn gave him a long, level look. "And _I_ have not flown first class in… wait! I never have. Quit being all snobby. It was the best we could do."

"Eight hours and three flights later," Orli complained.

"Be glad we got that," Jenn told him firmly. "We're lucky they had a flight with empty seats at all. And they didn't even charge us for the tickets- just a big tax for last-minute flight changes. It could have been worse."

"Eh," Orli muttered, which Jenn took to signify his repentance.

"I hate these seats," Josh whined, wiggling around and apparently trying to get comfortable. It looked like hard work.

Instead of scolding again, Jenn stifled a laugh. "And it's… what, maybe a twenty-four-hour flight, with about two different connections and more waiting around in airports and trying to get comfortable in new seats on new planes and _listening to you whine the whole time_?" she finished, unable to resist a mild reprimand.

"This should be fun," Orli said. Sitting in between Jenn and Josh, he glanced from one to the other with an amused expression.

"This should be very, very long," Josh disagreed. "I hate our seating arrangements," he added on a whine.

Jenn threw up her hands. "This _will_ be very, very long if you keep complaining about the seats." She decided her best bet was to ignore him completely, and perhaps he'd stop talking. She turned to Orli, mildly puzzled. "How do we change a diaper on a plane?"

"Maybe in the restroom?" he suggested, looking equally confused. "We'll worry about it later. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"Not likely," Jenn muttered. "But at least we made our flight."

"Barely," Orli teased. "I was a bit worried when we were checking our baggage. Every time they figured that was all we brought, another of your suitcases appeared. I thought we'd be there forever."

"And my brush is in there," Jenn half-wailed, remembering. "And I have my straightener with me instead of in my bag, and it doesn't help me and it's all your fault."

Orli looked genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"

Jennifer rolled her eyes. Poor Orli didn't remember a thing that had happened that morning, except for the brush fire and the traffic. She let it go and snuggled up against him as best she could in the restrictive airplane seats. She found herself thinking about the long, sleepless nights they spent together, relaxed and unhurried, except for Ally's waking intervals. Jenn sighed a little, knowing how crazy the next month was going to be, and how little time they would have for talking late into the night and into all hours of the morning.

Orli's body responded to her head against his chest automatically. He wished they weren't sharing the moment on the airplane, but in a quiet bedroom away from prying eyes. There hadn't been a lot of Jenn-and-Orli time in the past couple of weeks, what with Allyson's arrival, Nick's death and New Zealand preparations. He missed their carefree lunch dates, just the two of them, not a thought for anyone else in the world, and realized for the first time how very dramatically his life had changed forever. With a silent sigh, he shook off his lusty thoughts and contented himself with wrapping his arm around her, pulling her close and kissing her on the tip of her nose. She gave a happy little sigh, sounding like a schoolgirl, and responded by kissing him lightly on the lips.

Josh groaned. "Twenty minutes to liftoff and the kids are already going at it in the backseat." Michelle, sitting next to him in the aisle seat, had been up sick all night and was absolutely exhausted. As soon as she'd sat down, she'd grabbed a pillow, reclined in her seat and simply fallen asleep. Josh was bored already. "Plus," he said softly, even knowing Jenn and Orli weren't listening, "your twenty-five hours is what we spend on the plane, not counting all the waiting. You'll have to put up with my whining for the next two days before we get to New Zealand."

"Wow." Orli, with a smile, glanced at Michelle and waited for her to say more, but she seemed to be done. The other two were rendered completely speechless as they stared out over New Zealand, at the way the lush green land curved out into a calm, deep blue body of water; at perfectly clear, bright blue skies; at towering trees swaying gently in a cool, wintry breeze.

Orli cleared his throat and spoke. "This is the Wellington River. They used a nearby park as Rivendell. This," he laughed, "is also where Dominic got that splinter in his foot." Jenn and Michelle both laughed, still looking shocked; Josh simply looked confused. "What?" he asked, only causing the girls to laugh harder. Josh shook his head and walked off.

Orli shook his head to chase away the mystical feelings that struck even him at the sight of being in New Zealand, although he'd been more than once before. "We have to be at the site by ten, since we arrived late. It's almost a quarter to, we better get going."

Jenn, who still hadn't said a word, nodded as they turned and followed Josh up to the rental car, a sensible Honda that seated them and all their luggage comfortably. "Where are we staying?" she asked.

Orli, who was driving, didn't take his eyes off the road. "In a place called What's New Executive Apartments. Josh and I figured it was easier to rent an apartment for a month than try to stay in a hotel. It's close to the airport and even closer to the ferry. We have a two-bedroom suite. I know it's not where all the other cast members are staying," he continued, glancing at Jenn, "but Josh and I thought you might like this better. It'll be homier."

Jenn leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "It's perfect. You're perfect. This is perfect."

In the backseat, Michelle chuckled softly.

Jenn turned around to look at her. "What?"

"People always say the first two years of marriage are the hardest," she tried to explain, "but I look at us and we just keep acting like newlyweds. Lover's spats and lots and lots of kissing."

"You find the right person, and it just keeps getting better," Josh said dreamily.

Michelle broke into a grin. "Have you been reading my Janet Evanovich books again?"

Josh laughed self-consciously and reached to cover Michelle's mouth with his large hand. "I was getting new ideas for sex out of them," he teased, apparently forgetting the other two were listening. "But you seem to already be using those ideas."

"Josh," Orli said warningly, looking slightly perturbed from what Josh could see in the rearview mirror, but also fighting a laugh.

Jenn burst out laughing. She couldn't help herself. She was so happy- it was just one of those moments when everything is so _right_, and it's all funny because it's perfect and nothing can go wrong in moments like this. So she threw back her head and laughed, eagerly anticipating the coming month.


	20. Chapter 20

New Zealand took her breath away. Their apartment was amazing: a spotless, teal-blue kitchenette that melded into a family room complete with cable television and opened, from another direction, into a kitchen table that seated four (perfect); a living room with two leather sofas and more window than wall; another dining area; simple bedrooms with wardrobes and full-length mirrors. Except for the two bedrooms, everything was hardwood and stylishly decorated with expensive rugs. The bedrooms were plain, but simple and tasteful. A bit businesslike for her tastes, but that could be easily solved. She fell in love with the place as soon as they set foot inside; Jenn would have happily spent their entire holiday in their spacious apartment. .

As it happened, that was not the plan. Orli swept through the apartment, depositing roughly twelve bags of luggage, the contents of which the four of them had decided they absolutely could not live without, and blew right out again, rushing everyone ahead of him, back into the car. They'd barely been granted permission to change; although the cast reunion was supposed to be relatively informal, all four of them had been living out of carry-on backpacks and not enough showers for the two days they'd been traveling.

Jenn felt like little more than luggage herself as Orli hustled everyone away, while she tried hastily to find Ally's bottle and diaper bag, attaching one dangling gold earring with a free hand as her other rummaged through her second suitcase. She sighed inwardly, torn between exasperation and amusement at Orli's insistent swiftness.

"Orlando!" she heard someone call out, and blinked, irritated, as a camera flashed not three feet from her face.

"Why are the paparazzi here?" she asked Orli waspishly as they waded through a sea of photographers, Josh and Michelle close behind.

It was Josh who answered. "The paparazzi are everywhere. Don't worry, when filming starts they won't be allowed near the set. Unfortunately for us," he added, wincing as he sidestepped a hopeful-looking teenage girl, "this is just like a reunion for the cast and all their tagalongs."

Orli, in the meantime, had gone to speak with the owner of the voice that had hailed him before. Jenn, looking ahead, found him laughing with Viggo Mortensen and waving them over. She carefully stepped around reporters trying to shove microphones in her face and ask stupid questions ("We've all heard the rumors. So is that really Orlando Bloom's baby?" and Jenn, while vaguely wondering why her love life was public knowledge even halfway across the world, harked back to the tabloid article and everything that followed; she nearly up and socked _that_ particular reporter in the face) to join her husband and allow herself to be introduced to Viggo, who was smiling at her as though he'd seen her many times before, when, in fact, she'd only met him once, earlier that year when Orli's birthday party had taken place. She shrugged and followed everyone inside, barely able to refrain from collapsing against the wall in relief that none of the reporters and photographers had been invited in.

"Beth?" she asked, astonished, as a tall, slender young woman clutching a midnight blue purse and wearing a matching strapless dress stepped into view, attaching herself to Viggo's arm and already exchanging pleasantries with Michelle.

Beth glanced up and rushed to give Jenn a hug. "I'm so glad you're here!" she cried. "I haven't seen you in such a long time."

"But…" Jenn stammered, confused.

Beth explained with an easy smile. "You knew Viggo and his wife divorced six years ago. We've been together for three years which, of course, Jenn knew somewhere in the back of her mind. And," she continued, face lighting up, "I found out last week that I'm pregnant!"

Jenn and Michelle both squealed with excitement, and Viggo, Josh and Orli smiled, knowing this kind of conversation must have been the norm when they were all growing up together. With a flurry of delighted words, the three women were gone, sipping champagne and mingling with the rest of the cast. Viggo turned to Josh and Orli. "So how's life in the States?" he asked Orli.

"Life's great. Just had Ally last week, as a matter of fact," Orli said proudly, and Josh hid a smile, thinking amusedly, _He's already playing the proud father_, and then worrying, _Will I be that loving when we have our baby?_ He tuned back into the conversation just as Orli was asking, "Where are you and Beth living right now?"

"We've been touring the world a bit. Henry wanted to go to boarding school this year. He's fourteen, we figured we'd let him make his own decisions, so we took some time off. At the moment we're renting out a little apartment not too far from here. We've been in New Zealand for the past three weeks, and we're staying until filming wraps." Their aimless chatter soon revealed that Viggo and Beth were, in fact, renting in the same apartment complex, three floors up ("We could go out on our balconies at three in the morning and shout back and forth," Viggo suggested laughingly.)

"What the hell is going on out here?" Orli asked sleepily, trying to sound authoritative but failing miserably in his paisley pajamas. He stared at the plastic cup rigged to a long piece of yarn, which twisted its way up the pillar of the balcony and disappeared far above his head. Jenn and Michelle didn't answer, apparently intent on their project.

Orli repeated the question, with extra expletives.

Michelle finally glanced up, looking perfectly warm in a baby-style, one-piece woolen sleep outfit that encased her feet, keeping them warm on the cold deck. "We're talking to Beth," she answered matter-of-factly, as though it were the most natural thing to be doing on a wooden deck in a classy apartment at two-thirty in the morning.

Orli stared at Jenn (dressed in a red fleece bathrobe and Peter Pan slippers over her pajamas), who was laughing as she held the bright red cup to her ear, and then put it to her mouth and said clearly, "I don't think they have many monkeys here."

She turned to Orli as Michelle took the cup. "See, we're communicating!" she explained happily.

Orli groaned, rubbed his temples, and slipped back inside.

All too soon, the leisurely days came to a close and filming took their place. Orli was gone nearly sixteen hours a day, and most of the time he staggered into the apartment- around two in the morning- he fell into bed, exhausted.

Josh, Jenn and Michelle found no lack of things to do. They went mountain biking and sailing, took an aerial tour of the urban areas, did some shopping (much to Josh's dismay), visited three different museums and a local zoo and were even offered the opportunity to take a tour of "Middle Earth" during filming, an exclusive provided only for the family and friends of cast members. Jenn's favorite by far was the Middle Earth tour; it gave her the chance to see Orli for a little while, and fully appreciate the challenge of filming the movies. She could not, however, bring herself to appreciate the easy intimacy of the friendship between Liv Tyler and Orli; knowing full well that Liv was married, it was too easy to forget that when she watched the way Liv acted around _her_ husband.

At the moment, Jenn was cradling Ally, who was napping against her shoulder, and watching Peter Jackson direct yet another epic battle with fifty thousand Orcs. She couldn't help laughing as Peter explained the scene to a little boy who played a terrified villager ("Listen, Johnny, you won't look too scared if you're picking your nose while the bad guys are coming through and destroying everything").

"Excuse me," an authoritative male voice behind her said, and she turned, surprised. But the man wasn't looking at her; he was staring right at Josh.

"You," he said, indicating Josh with an inelegant flick of his large, rough hand. "Ever acted?"

Michelle, leaning against Josh as they watched the filming, snickered. The man's gaze rested briefly on her, then returned to Josh.

"Uh… yeah," Josh answered awkwardly, not quite sure if he should turn and walk away or start rattling off his résumé.

"Wanna be an Orc?" the man asked, puffing on a cigar. A small amount of drool slid down his chin. Jenn struggled not to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"Sure." Josh sounded cautious, but interested.

"Cool." The man jerked his head to the left. "This way."

"Oh." Josh looked more cautious than interested now. Waving to Jenn and Michelle, he said, "See you later, I guess." He followed Cigar Man away to a massive dressing room in which hundreds of other extras were being fitted as Orcs.

"Well," Michelle muttered, disgruntled. She looked up at Jenn hopefully. "Do you think maybe I could be an Orc?"

"But I think I should be an Orc!" Jenn replied in a desultory manner. "But you… you're too short,"

"I'm shorter than all of you!" Michelle cried, then paused. "Or something about you that's… not nice," she finished uncertainly. Jenn rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the filming.

"And there's even a close-up of me!" Josh explained breathlessly. "Plus-"

Jenn interrupted, looking at Michelle. "Get him to stop."

Michelle merely shrugged. "We didn't do traditional wedding vows. He never promised to obey me. And he never does."

Josh continued as though there had been no hiatus. "I got to ride the elephant that Orlando killed! Then," he continued dejectedly, "I had to fall and pretend to be dead." He brightened. "But wait till it comes out, ooh, I'm going to show you which one I am and you'll be so proud of me-"

Michelle reached over and covered his hands with one of hers, and his mouth with her other hand. Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, she assured him, "We're already proud of you."

"Speak for yourself," Jenn murmured, and they both glanced up.

"You're not proud of me?" Josh asked, sounding injured. In moments such as this, he reminded Jenn of Michelle's younger brother at age eight.

"Of course I am," she muttered weakly. "Which is why you don't need to tell us any more."

"I wanna be an extra," Michelle whined.

"Me too," Jenn sighed, then grinned. "You know what would be really cool? I'd like to play an Elf. And then, maybe I'll get in a fight with Liv Tyler, so of course I'll have to pull a few punches…" Her face took on a dreamy look as she imagined the possibilities.

"Jealous?" Josh queried, looking concerned.

"Me? Jealous? Never."

"That's what all the jealous people say," Michelle pointed out helpfully.

"Then how do you know if someone's telling the truth or actually jealous?" Jenn challenged.

"You're jealous," Michelle stated, with finality. "I can tell."

"Maybe," Jenn conceded. "But come on, there aren't a whole lot of scenes with her and Orli. She doesn't have to hang around him so much."

"Does it bother you that I hang around with Orli so much?" Michelle asked reasonably.

"That's different," Jenn couldn't help saying.

"How so?" It was not scorn, but a genuine question.

"I know you. You're married. You would never try to steal my husband," Jenn replied.

"Because then I'd have to kill her," Josh offered, determined to get his two cents in the conversation he'd started.

"Not helpful, Josh," Michelle said with a mild, but amused, look. She turned to Jenn. "Liv's married, too."

"People have affairs," Jenn countered.

Michelle yawned and stretched. "It's not going to happen, Jenn." She patted Jenn's hand. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I have to call it a day."

"Yeah, me too," Jenn admitted, trying to conceal her yawn as she too stood.

"Hey, maybe I'll come too," Josh declared, obviously playing for attention. Michelle smiled at him through half-closed eyes. Turning to leave, she nearly fell into the table. Josh crossed the distance between them and gently picked her up, whereupon she leaned against his chest as he moved to carry her into their bedroom.

Jenn smiled. "You know, it's times like this you don't even seem like you're married. You look more like father and-"

"Jennifer, I'm begging you, do not finish that sentence," Josh said firmly. He leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. "Sweet dreams," he added, his tone tender now. Glancing at his watch, he added, "It's close to two. Orli should be home soon. You want me to wait up with you till he gets in so you're not alone?"

"No," Jenn murmured sleepily, finding she could barely keep her eyes open. "I'm just going to go to bed. He'll wake me when he gets in anyway."

"Okay." Josh dropped another kiss on her forehead before walking through the adjacent door to his and Michelle's room. Jenn watched through the door, smiling, as he pulled off Michelle's shoes and brought the blanket up to her chin before climbing in next to her, not even bothering to change into pajamas.

Jenn padded silently past their room to hers and Orli's, where Ally, currently asleep, was also taking up residence. Being barely three weeks old, she wasn't sleeping through the night yet, and Jenn was usually the one who had to calm her, feed her, rock her, since Orli slept like a dead thing. She didn't blame him; Orli barely had enough energy on the little sleep he got. The last thing he needed was a reason to be up more than he already was. Still, she couldn't help resenting just a little the fact that she was taking care of Ally by herself. She sighed quietly as she crawled under the covers alone.

"We finally some time off filming tomorrow," Orli announced over a hurried breakfast at eight in the morning a few days later. "They're focusing on Elijah and Sean then, so I don't even have to show up."

Jenn, tired from lack of sleep, brightened visibly at this news. "Really?" she asked hopefully around a mouthful of bacon and eggs. She wasn't a breakfast person, or a morning person for that matter, but it was the only time she could really see her husband these days.

"Of course, I'll be catching up on sleep quite a bit of the time," Orli added apologetically, "but we should have some time together."

Jenn smiled as her mind ran through the possibilities. It was like having a honeymoon all over again.

Orli grinned too as he guessed her thoughts. "I honestly don't want to get your hopes up too high. It's only for a day or two, and then there are more small scenes I have to be there to reshoot. But I'm hoping we can still do something special."

"We'll make time," Jenn promised, then paused. "Well. You'll make time. I have nothing but time."

Orli laughed. "I promise. I always have time for you."

"Not these days," Jenn couldn't help saying.

His smile flickered. "You know I try."

She sighed. "I know. Really, I do. I'm not trying to be selfish here. I just miss you."

"I miss you too. I wish this were working out better." His look softened as he spoke. Orli refused to admit, even to himself, that bringing everyone along might have been a mistake. He wasn't sure Jenn was having any fun, nursing Ally all day and spending all her time with Josh and Michelle. Not that they weren't fun.

Still.

Neither of them was used to being apart from the other so much. Orli came back to the apartment long enough to take a shower, catch some sleep and breakfast, and leave again. Although Jenn kept busy discovering New Zealand and spent countless hours reminiscing with Beth and Michelle, the days were long and less enjoyable than if Orli could have shared them with her.

"I know," Jenn said in agreement, avoiding his gaze. "Not that I'm not having fun," she hastened to add, "but…" She trailed off, trying to force down the frustration and annoyance she'd been suppressing for two weeks. Failing miserably, she added, somewhat irritably, "But it would be nice if you did more than sleep and leave again." Now that she'd opened her mouth, the words kept tumbling out. "You stumble in at two in the morning and fall into bed like a dead thing. Ally doesn't even wake you up when she cries. And then, you have breakfast and leave. I'm beginning to feel more like a maid than a wife."

"I'm _sorry_, Jenn," he insisted, trying to get her to look him in the eye. "Believe me, it would be more fun for me too if I could be around more." He picked up Ally, who'd been lying quietly on the rug in the family room, not far from where they sat. She began to cry for no apparent reason.

Jenn didn't think she could deal with another crying fit on top of all her irritation. She reached over and pulled Ally out of Orli's arms, thinking she was hungry.

Ally stopped crying.

"For God's sake," Jenn cried, exasperated. "Make up your mind." But Ally appeared to be done crying, and Jenn handed her back to Orli.

She started crying again.

"Well." Orli tried not to look offended.

"You can't take anything she does too personally. She's three weeks old," Jenn told him, but she didn't mean the words. "Your own daughter has no idea who you are. She never sees you either," she blurted, surprising herself. She hadn't meant to say anything more.

Orli rubbed his temples and glanced at his watch. Without saying anything, he gave Ally a quick kiss on the head and dropped another meaningless one on Jenn's cheek as he distractedly handed Ally back. "I have to go," he said briefly, and Jenn could tell she'd upset him. Well, good. He'd been upsetting her for weeks. Just one thing…

"Don't you dare walk away when I'm talking to you!" she half-yelled, dormant rage beginning to rise.

He half turned in the doorway. "You have some other insulting derogatory crap to throw at me?"

Jenn yearned to tell him that insulting and derogatory were essentially the same. "I am so sick of this. This is _typical_. You're so _busy_ all the time. Would it kill you to spend just a little time with your _family_?"

"What do you think breakfast was before you ruined it with this whole conversation?" he demanded.

"Oh, now it's _my_ fault?" she cried. "At least my daughter knows who I am!"

"I cannot believe you are throwing that in my face!" he shouted. "I wish I could be around more! I'm _tired_. I am _exhausted_. Getting up to have a special breakfast was so hard, but I did it for you and this is what I get?"

"_This is what you get_?" she shrieked. "You want me to get down on bended knee and thank you for the extra half hour of sleep you gave up within the past three weeks?"

Just then, a diversion appeared in the form of a small, tousle-headed young woman with an empty water bottle in her hand. Michelle, who always slept with water by her bedside, blinked at them both. "Ah," she muttered. "I don't really need more water." She turned to go.

Orli glared at Michelle. "Don't you look at her like this is all her fault," Jenn snapped, intercepting his glance.

"Don't even try to tell me what I'm thinking right now," he retorted. In the general un-merriment, Michelle slipped back out of the kitchen unnoticed.

Jenn was livid by then. She opened her mouth to throw a furious diatribe at him. What she would have said, she never quite knew. As soon as Orli saw that she was getting ready to speak, he spat, "I don't have time for this," and walked out the door. Jenn forgot to close her mouth as she stared after him.

Josh walked into the kitchen at nine-thirty, looking akin to a Neanderthal with his tangled hair and sleepy-eyed expression. He did a double take when he saw Jenn, staring blankly at the wall and absently shredding a tissue with one hand as she used the other to support Ally, who was curled up against her chest.

"Trouble in paradise?" he questioned knowingly.

She didn't even look up. A brief nod was all the affirmation Josh was given, and all he needed. He reached out to pull her close, knowing how futile words would be. They sat that way, Josh silently holding her and rocking gently back and forth as best he could manage on the wooden chair, for a long time.

"What I don't get," Jenn, who was speaking again, announced, "is how he could blame _me_ for all of this. I knew he'd be busy, really I did. But this is ridiculous." She proceeded to give the rendition of Ally's mysterious crying fit when Orli held her. "She has no idea who he is," Jenn concluded. "And these days I wonder if even I do. I mean," she continued, apparently not finished, "he could at least _try_ to understand that it's upsetting for me to be taking care of Ally on my own. I know I have you two," she added quickly, taking in Josh and Michelle with an apologetic glance, "but it's not quite the same as having her father around. I mean, I know it's selfish, but I can't help feeling that way, you know? Maybe he could sleep less. Spend just a little time with me and Ally."

"You knew it would be tough," Josh pointed out softly. Michelle elbowed him, hard ("How mature," Josh muttered).

"I know I knew it would be hard," Jenn conceded. "I had no idea it would be like this. I knew I wouldn't see him much. I didn't know it would get to a point where his daughter didn't even remember him. I didn't know we'd be fighting about it like this. We didn't say much, but I know he's mad at me. He actually walked out on me this morning."

"But you're mad at him, too," Michelle commented mildly. "You've been annoyed with him anyway."

"I know," Jenn said miserably. "That's the worst part."

"Why does that make it worse?" Josh asked, confused.

"It means we're having a fight. Not an argument, but an actual fight. It's not some stupid disagreement where one of us gets mad and the other gets confused and then we both come back and apologize. It's going to be one of those things where it gets much worse before it gets better."

"It's just stressful for both of you," Michelle said understandingly. "It'll pass. Yeah, it probably will get worse before it gets better. But it will still get better." She gave Jenn's hand a comforting squeeze. "Try not to worry too much. You can't do anything whatsoever about it until tonight."

"Yes, I can," Jenn announced. "I'm going to see where he is. Maybe if he's not filming right now, he'll have a few minutes." The look on her face suggested she knew it was a slim possibility, but it was worth everything to try.

"But she _knew_ I'd be busy," Orli explained, wanting to justify that morning's behavior, and the way he'd walked out angry. "It's not like I don't _try_ to be around. It's just that I _can't_. I even told her I would have a couple days off after today, and now I'm afraid she'll expect to do something special, when I'll really be too exhausted most of the time by then. And then she'll get mad at me for not having enough time for her in the little time off I get, and we'll get into another huge argument about that."

"Marriage is tough," Liv said wisely. "You have to really want to make it work."

"I _do_," Orli insisted, "but what else can I do about this?"

"Not a lot," Liv admitted. "Mostly you just have to hope she can understand. Jenn's not an actress, is she?"

"Singer and dancer," he answered.

"Then she _should_ have some idea. It's a demanding profession, and it's not your fault," Liv concluded.

"I feel like it is," he said sadly. "I feel like there's something I should be doing to make it better, but I have no idea what. I walked out on her this morning," he added. "I was getting mad, and I just left. She probably thinks I hate her now."

Liv gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You can't change what you did, you know. You can decide what you're going to do to make up for it, but you can't sit and think about what you _should _have done, versus what you did do."

He looked at her, and she drew back at his gaze- his eyes were a striking brown, otherwise unremarkable to her, but they could pierce like daggers. Orlando had always been like a brother to her, laid-back and fun to be around; it was easy for her to forget the intensity of his more passionate side. And now as she looked into his eyes, she sensed that his problem was much deeper than a few unloving words exchanged over forgotten bacon that grew cold as their argument heated up. Unthinking, she reached for his hand again, and this time he caught it in his own and held it. His eyes pleaded for help, for wisdom, for some magical solution to their problem. But she had no idea what to give, and so they just sat quietly, watching each other for some sign that it was all right to talk again.

Half an hour later, Jenn was finally directed to a small mobile café purchased especially for the cast members' benefit, where she was told Orli usually was in between filming. But a cursory glance revealed a half-empty bar and Orli not one of the drinkers. She sighed, running her hands through her hair in frustration and wondering where Orli could be.

"Can I get you something, love?" the bartender asked, leering.

"No," she answered distractedly. "I don't drink."

"I have coffee," he offered, eager to make himself a little more money.

"I hate coffee," she muttered childishly, and the bartender gave up with a shrug. "Suit yourself."

Jenn turned and walked out through a heavy metal door that clanged shut behind her, ready to head back to Josh and Michelle and admit defeat for the present. But she couldn't help thinking- perhaps wishing- that maybe Orli was outside, enjoying the weather. Glancing around, she noticed Liv Tyler, recognizing her by her distinctive, rich dark hair, sitting on a checkered picnic blanket and talking to a man she didn't recognize.

Wait- she _did_ know the man with Liv. She was too far away to properly see his face, but she could distinguish him from any other man by the lean, muscular body she was so familiar with. Maybe Orli was sharing lunch with Liv, she thought, trying not to jump to conclusions, but it looked to her as though they were sharing a lot more than lunch, holding hands and staring at each other. Her mouth, unnoticed by her, fell open yet again as Orli reached up to brush a lock of hair away from Liv's face.

She thought perhaps she should announce herself, but when she opened her mouth no sound came out. Abruptly, she pivoted on her heel and stormed off.

"I don't quite know what to tell you," Liv said at last. "All couples fight- it's completely normal. Not fun, I know, but not atypical, either."

"That doesn't make it easier," Orli replied miserably. "We never fight. I mean, we never- we just don't fight."

"I know," Liv acknowledged. "But it's still going to be okay."

"I don't know what it is, you know?" Orli continued, not listening. "Josh and Michelle argue all the time. They just… bicker, as my mother would say. But somehow their arguments always end with him picking her up and kissing her and both of them laughing."

"Whereas when you and Jenn fight, it's with the force of several small volcanoes erupting?" Liv interjected.

He nodded. "Exactly."

She squeezed his hand, which she still held, again, leaning forward to emphasize her point. "It will be fine. I promise."

His feeble attempt of a smile didn't reach his eyes. "Thank you." He reached with his free hand to brush a lock of hair away from her eyes.

Liv suddenly pulled her hand free of his, looking nervous. "What does your wife look like?"

In a flash, Orli had spun around, just in time to see Jenn stomping off in the opposite direction, and from the way she was walking, it was apparent she'd seen them. Orli winced and swore as he thought what it must have looked like. He was on his feet in an instant and headed in her direction when a cameraman stepped in front of him from out of nowhere. "Bloom?" he asked curtly.

"Yes," Orli answered automatically, and cursed himself.

The man jerked his thumb to his right, the opposite direction in which Jenn had run off. "You're wanted over on set sixteen."

"Not _now_," Orli pleaded, but the man raised an eyebrow. "You're getting paid for this," he snapped. "Way too much, if you ask me. All you have to do is show up and say your lines. Now go."

"I don't really want to talk about this," Jenn snapped that night.

"It wasn't-" he started

"If you try to tell me it wasn't what it looked like," she cut him off, voice dripping ice, "I will- I will hurt you," she finished lamely, having been about to say something with reference to ripping out his intestines and wearing them as a necklace, but she'd decided at the last second that it wouldn't be appropriate.

"We were just talking," Orli said, raising his voice to talk over her protests. "Because, you know, she's actually willing to listen to me." Some part of him, still upset about that morning, and upset that she wouldn't listen to or believe him, made him want to hurt her, and the brief flicker of pain in her eyes told him he had succeeded, perhaps too well. The instant of vulnerability, of Orli's regret of what he'd just said, was fleeting, as the sadness in her eyes was replaced by a furious, uncontainable rage.

"Then go run off and be with her, if that's what you want," she spat, and walked into the bedroom, fuming.

_Follow her, follow her, follow her!_ some part of Orli screamed at him as he watched her walk off. _Nah,_ another part of him said decisively. _Go get drunk. Call Liv. Do something really stupid just for fun. Who cares what Jenn thinks_?

_I do,_ the first part of Orli protested halfheartedly as his hand whipped out his cell phone and his feet walked him out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

"C'mon, Orli," Michelle said pleadingly. "It's two in the afternoon."

"Shleeping," he muttered thickly. "Go 'way."

Michelle drew herself up to her full five feet two inches and placed her hands on her hips. "Come _on_. We have stuff to do, and we want you to come with us."

"No come whish you," Orli declared. "Jenn hatesh me."

"She does not hate you. She's very, very mad at you." Michelle was glaring now. "And considering that you walked in, drunk off your ass, at six in the morning, to sleep on the couch when you have a very comfortable bed with a bright red bedspread and fluffy down pillows, I can't say I blame her."

"I hate red," he countered obstinately.

"Thank you for cutting to the core of the matter," Michelle said snappishly. She reached for his hand. "Get up."

He tried to swat her away but missed, overbalancing and nearly falling off the couch. "Ah!"

Michelle tugged on his hand but fell over instead of pulling him off the couch. "Get _up_!" she shouted from the floor.

"Ow," he said, wincing. "My head."

"You're damn lucky I'm not violent or I'd be smacking you in the head right now," Michelle told him, still on the ground. All he could see was the top of her dark brunette head. "And then it would _really_ hurt."

"You musht not have the shame idea of 'damn lucky' ash I do," he chanced to say, and was unpleasantly surprised to see her looking madder than ever. "Why are you taking Jenn's shide?" he asked, unfortunately still slurring his words. "You have no idea what I have to shay for myshelf."

Michelle, exasperated, went to put on a pot of coffee, in the probably futile hope that it would make any difference to his condition. She returned to plop down on the couch opposite him.

"Look," she started. "I don't know what happened with you two last night. I don't even know what happened with you two yesterday afternoon. All I know is, you had some stupid disagreement over breakfast yesterday and let it get to this. And it's ridiculous. I'm pissed off with the whole thing. There are no sides. Go make up."

"I tried to explain myself last night and she just walked out on me," he protested.

She met his gaze levelly. "That's how it felt to her when you walked out on her yesterday morning."

"Eh," he muttered unconcernedly. "That wash different." He giggled suddenly. "It was different," he repeated, sounding delighted. "Different. Diff. Rent."

"You're drunk." Michelle watched him dispassionately, a look of disgust deepening on her face.

"Yesh," he agreed pleasantly. "I would have to shay it looksh that way." Without another word, he slumped over, snoring lightly, and did not respond when she threw chivalry to the winds and clouted him on the head.

"Why did you two let some little argument get so out of hand?" Michelle asked conversationally over the coffee she'd intended for Orli.

Jenn flinched, but Michelle held her ground. Jenn was a moment in responding, and even when the words came out they flowed like molasses in wintertime. "They say people who reject change are foolish," she began carefully, and Michelle abandoned her coffee cup, propped her chin on her hands and listened, fascinated. So rarely did Jenn make grand speeches that it was always worth listening to. "But I wish things didn't have to change. I think about us, about you and Josh and me and Orli, and the way things were a year ago. I remember how we did everything together and never argued, how we cherished the little moments. How our favorite memories were days on the beach and throwing each other in the water, not candlelit dinners and movie premieres and marriage proposals. I've always thought it's not worth living if you don't love the small stuff. _And I want that back_. But nothing's ever going to be the same again. We have a _baby_. We weren't ready for a baby, and I certainly wasn't ready to take care of one by myself. I feel like we made a mistake, and this situation is throwing everything into a harsh new light."

Michelle, who knew when to remain silent and had listened quietly to Jenn's whole tirade without a single change of expression, eyes gone dark and unreadable, now asked simply, "And what mistake did you make?"

Jenn hesitated. For years to come, when Michelle recalled New Zealand in her mind, this was the image that appeared: Jenn sitting at a table, afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, casting shadows across her face and lengthening the shadows of her lashes, making her look younger than her twenty-three years; the way her knuckles turned white as she clenched her forgotten coffee cup; the way her voice shook ever so slightly as she ploughed ahead with an admirable degree of certainty. "Getting married."


	21. Chapter 21

"So, Orli," Josh began, "mano a mano-"

"If you're trying to say 'man to man' in Spanish, it's not working," Orli cut him off.

Josh looked vaguely offended. "Everything I do works."

Orli smirked. "If you say so."

Josh waved a hand, brushing aside Orli's sarcasm. "So," he continued grandly, "forgetting the Spanish, Orlando- if I may call you Orlando-"

"What else would you call me?" Orli interrupted, looking disturbed.

"Well, I usually call you Orli, don't I?" Josh appeared surprised. "Stop messing up the vibe, bucky."

"_Bucky_?" Orli repeated incredulously.

"You know," Josh said conversationally, "this little chat is not going at all in the direction I anticipated."

Orli's brow furrowed. "Where did you learn all those big words?"

"I read, Orlando," Josh said primly. A strapping man at six feet two inches, the priggish attitude did not suit him. "Anyway."

Orli had a feeling he knew what was coming, and at eight that night, rather than being stark raving drunk, he merely had a Very Bad Hangover. He fell backwards on his bed, wincing as it bounced beneath him. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Yes, you do." The annoying thing about Josh, Orli thought, was that he was like a very smug kitten: nobody could quite get through to him that he wasn't always in charge. "Tell me."

So, he did.

"And why is this such a big deal?" Josh asked, frowning. "You had some stupid disagreement over your not having enough time and now you won't even talk to each other. I don't get it."

"You'd have to be one of us to get it," Orli tried to explain. "We can't handle all this, we really can't. We, um, never meant to become parents this soon." Ignoring Josh's surprised expression, he continued, "I'm even beginning to wonder if we were really ready for marriage."

All in all, it was an uncomfortable two weeks. On the rare occasions when Jenn and Orli did speak to each other, it was with a curious, stilted formality. Michelle observed from the sidelines with a growing impatience; Josh, with a sense of impending doom. To say that they were all happy to be leaving two weeks later was a massive understatement. True enough, they'd enjoyed themselves; Jenn had even been cast as an Elf in the very last scene of the movie and took a great amount of delight in her pointed ears and silky gown. They'd exchanged farewells with Beth, with many promises to keep in touch and Beth's assurances that she would indeed visit next time she and Viggo were in the States. Jenn stepped off the plane in La Guardia with a guilty sense of relief that at least when they arrived home, she and Orli could properly avoid each other without constant but well-meaning therapy sessions, mostly from Josh. Michelle, over the past two weeks, had tended to make herself scarce as far as heartfelt dialogues were concerned, and Jenn and Orli alike were grateful for her quiet presence.

"Jennifer?" an almost-familiar male voice called questioningly, and Jenn looked around, confused.

"It _is_ you!" the voice cried in triumphant surprise, and Jenn found herself looking up into the face of her old flame.

"Matthew?" she said in disbelief. She hadn't seen him in nearly four years, since he'd told her very simply that he'd been seeing someone else and didn't want to see her anymore. "I'm happy with Marilyn," he'd told her definitively, and she'd turned away so he wouldn't see the devastation in her eyes. It was nearly eight months later that Michelle had introduced her to Orlando, who'd picked up the pieces of her broken heart and never given them back.

"How have you been?" he asked lightly, shadows chasing each other across his dark eyes. She wondered what he was thinking- perhaps remembering the note they'd ended on so long ago. She'd walked out his front door, careful not to slam it and let him know how hurt she was, and refused his invitation to go to lunch and catch up two years later. "I'm happy with Orlando," she'd told him definitively, and had been viciously pleased to hear the catch in his voice as he bid her good-bye and hung up.

"I've been pretty good," she told him, half-truthfully as she remembered that her domestic life was currently in question.

"I heard about the marriage," he acknowledged. "Hasn't it been about a year by now?"

"We celebrated our anniversary last month," she told him proudly, trying not to think what they'd done with themselves the past two weeks. "How are things with Marilyn?" Admittedly she hadn't talked to him in years, and she observed no wedding ring on his finger, so she could guess the answer, and realized that it was probably not the smartest thing to say.

Again, a flicker of a shadow ran across his face. "It didn't work out." Jenn waited silently, regarding him, but he didn't elaborate. "I'm sorry," she offered finally, tentative.

He smiled suddenly. "Don't worry about it."

Jenn sensed that a change of topic was in order. "So where are you going?" She was gratified to see the catch of relief in his eyes that they were, at least, no longer talking about his ex.

"Just got back from California, actually," he answered casually, smiling. His teeth looked very white against his dark tan. "Took a long weekend off with the guys. What about you?"

"New Zealand," she replied succinctly. "Orlando had reshoots for _Return of the King_. I got to be an Elf!" she added excitedly, and his face lit up with hers as he witnessed her enthusiasm.

"Jenn!" she heard another familiar voice call, and turned to see Josh waving at her from some twenty feet away, gesturing pointedly at her four bags of luggage, splayed on the floor at his feet.

Jenn heaved a theatrical sigh, held up a finger to let him know she'd be right there, and turned back to Matthew. "I'd better get going," she told him regretfully.

He looked mildly upset, but merely asked, "Do you live in the city?"

"Yeah," she responded, looking hopeful once more. "I don't have your number, though. I had no idea you were in New York. I thought you still lived in Texas."

"Moved," he said briefly as he pulled out a permanent marker. "Got any paper?" She shook her head, and he smiled, pulling her arm towards him and writing down his number in thick black letters. "There," he laughed, "now even if you're one of those people who shower every day you have no excuse not to call me." He held her arm a moment longer than was necessary, as though reluctant to let go. Though Jenn was proud not to be an adulteress, even in the face of her current difficulties, she had to admit that his touch did wonderful things to her. She could feel the lingering pressure where he'd held her, could smell his cologne as he stood so close. It made her dizzy. "I'll call you," she promised. "Maybe we could get together and do lunch next week."

His eyes, which had held so much varying emotion during their short conversation, lit up again. "That'd be great."

"Isn't that like a date?" Josh asked two days later, helping Jenn unpack her second suitcase. He himself was "too lazy" to do his own unpacking and had only managed to unpack half a suitcase. In fact, Jenn was apparently the only one who could be bothered to do the thing completely. At the moment, Orli and Michelle were downstairs eating lunch.

Jenn sighed, tugging a pair of lacy underwear out of the mesh side pocket. "For the eighth time, no. We're just having lunch together. I haven't even called him."

"Wouldn't that be cheating on your husband?"

Jenn closed her eyes and counted to ten. It was not sufficient. "Goodbye, Josh."

He looked surprised. "Are you going somewhere?"

She gritted her teeth. "You are."

"I didn't know that!" he cried, sounding upset.

"I don't need to be interrogated to the nth degree about having lunch with an old friend," she snapped, her patience already worn very thin after another attempted conversation with Orli had blown up in their faces.

"I think we let this whole thing get out of hand," Orli had told her that afternoon as they unpacked together. Glancing over, she saw him looking at her with concern, a toothbrush in one hand and a tangled blonde wig in the other.

"I think that's a bit of an understatement," she'd responded carefully. She was tired of arguing, but still didn't see where she had committed any wrongdoing, and he'd shown no sign of making an apology for his behavior.

He'd sighed. "So can we share our feelings about this?"

A small smile had begun to tug at the corner of her mouth. "Have you been talking to Josh?"

"Maybe," he had answered, sheepishly. "Lack of communication, apparently that's our problem."

"I think so. But I don't quite see what I did wrong," she'd started, unwilling to ask for an apology and unwilling to apologize for nothing.

"It was just stressful," he had tried to explain. "And you were nagging me-"

Unthinking, she'd cut him off. "I was not _nagging_! I was _trying_ to be _reasonable_. All I wanted was a little bit of time together. It was supposed to be special."

"But you knew I wouldn't be around much," he'd pronounced reasonably. "It wasn't like it was a surprise, nor like I was out getting drunk with the guys every night."

"I didn't know your daughter would completely forget who you were," she had retorted, irritated at having been blamed.

"For God's sake," he'd cried, exasperated, "not that _again_."

"The point is still valid," she had protested. "It was hard on me, too. And then you went out and got drunk and couldn't even be bothered to let anyone know where you were or when you'd be back and my God, Orli, you were driving, did you think about that? And the worst part is, you went off doing God-knows-what with Liv Tyler and then tried to tell me she was better than me. Which is fine. Or would be if you weren't married to me."

"I never said she was better," he'd said, face rapidly changing colors. Jenn had watched, fascinated. Pale to blotchy red and then faintly green. It was, she had mused idly, very Christmas-y. "I said she was willing to listen to me when you weren't. You were the one who jumped to conclusions when you saw us on that picnic blanket talking. Which, patently, indicates that you have a trust problem with me. As in, you don't. People aren't supposed to get married unless they trust each other. So you might have mentioned this problem before our wedding."

Jenn had jumped all over what she saw as a grossly unfair accusation. "What are you saying, you wish we hadn't gotten married? We could always get divorced if that's what you're after." Her voice, to her chagrin, had broken then. "Is that what you want?"

He'd looked up then. "Don't start crying on me," he'd warned, sounding even angrier than before, and that had only made the tears come faster.

"You know," she'd cried, "if you didn't want to get married then maybe we shouldn't have. If I'm that much of a problem to you, that much of an annoyance in your life…."

"I never said that…" he'd started, and then they had both started yelling, neither listening to the other.

And on it had gone.

Josh watched her now, looking worried. "I'm not interrogating to the nth degree. I'm just a bit concerned that the way things are between you right now, it might not be a good idea to go out with other men."

"Worry about yourself, Josh. I appreciate your help, really I do. But you have no idea what I need right now. Here," she said, handing him the lacy underwear. "Second drawer from the top on the left-hand side," she ordered, indicating the dresser.

Josh appeared faintly repulsed.

"They're _clean_," she stressed, annoyed, and Josh daintily took them by the seam between two fingers, looking horrified as he placed them in the drawer, per her instructions. "Hey," she added on a sudden inspiration, thinking of Orli and Michelle in the kitchen. "What do you think they're talking about down there?"

Josh saw the hopeful gleam in her eyes and gave the answer she needed to hear. "Probably you."

"What do you think of, um, gentlemen's clubs?" Orli asked Michelle.

Michelle didn't glance up from her taco salad. Naturally she'd made herself completely at home in his kitchen. "Well, I've been to a wide variety of gentlemen's clubs, so I'll have to ask you to specify. What kind of gentlemen's club?"

"I haven't gotten that far," he admitted. "I just need something to take my mind off this whole stupid argument."

"Well," Michelle said around a mouthful of meat and lettuce, "when in doubt, I would highly recommend a good brothel."

Orli turned green, just as he had done with Jenn. "I didn't say brothel."

"Ah." Michelle merely nodded, wise sage that she was.

"I was thinking just go out with some of the guys. Dom's in town, and it was his idea, actually," Orli explained helpfully.

Michelle waited.

"Dom claims it always makes a man feel better when he's feeling like crap."

"You know what else makes a man feel better when he's feeling like crap? Talking to his wife. I've heard divorce court is a real hassle, 'specially if it's not amicable, you know?" Michelle asked.

"I think it sounds like fun," Orli said defensively.

"Divorce court? No, fun would be getting hit by a train after walking through a monsoon in which you managed to get struck by lightning, and then going home and realizing you're out of milk. Fun would be when the house next door is supposed to be demolished, but the demolishing guys start demolishing your house instead. Also, I don't think I've ever used the word 'demolish' so many times in one sentence. And brothels, not so much fun either. They're kinda lacking in morals, if you ask me." Michelle took a deep breath, apparently not done.

"I _meant_," Orli said, interrupting her tirade, "going to a gentlemen's club or something sounds like fun. Plus, I said _not_ brothels, and _you _recommended it in the first place. And I never asked you."

"You did so ask me," Michelle retorted, the epitome of maturity.

"Clearly it was a lapse in judgment. I'm sorry."

"Would you like my opinion now?" she queried, ignoring him.

"I thought you already made yourself pretty clear."

"Did I?" she asked, surprised. "Let me make it clearer. It would be a great idea if it didn't suck. Remember last time you went out and got stark raving drunk?"

Orli sighed. "I should have known better than to ask your opinion."

"Yeah," Michelle agreed, finishing her salad and getting up to clear away her dishes. "You should have."

"I don't really think you need to be going spastic over this, Orli," Josh said worriedly a week later as Orli paced the room, every so often stopping to throw a hairbrush violently into the toilet, or to wring out a washcloth that he seemed to think was wet. This unusual behavior had Josh somewhat concerned. "It's seven in the morning. Jenn's not even up yet."

"I'm not going spastic," Orli snapped back, sounding frazzled. "Does this look spastic to you?" he demanded, swinging his arm out in a large arc. _Plop_. Another unfortunate brush landed in the toilet. Orli allowed himself a vindictive smile; Josh noted that the hairbrush, like Orli's three previous victims, belonged to Jennifer, who had made a lunch date with Matthew for that day.

"All right," Josh said firmly. "We're going out."

"Out?" Orli asked. "Out where?"

"Someplace with no toilets or brushes." Josh placed his hand under Orli's elbow and steered him away.

In all of their enormous house, Jennifer's favorite place had always been the window seat in the gameroom. She had never seen the need for a gameroom, herself, before Ally had come along, since they had, for the most part, grown too old for childhood toys. But she loved that window seat. Growing up, she'd never had one. Now, she had decorated it with throw pillows and a down blanket done in shades of lilac and dusky blue. Orli had always complained that the blanket was too girly.

Jenn was sitting there now, the blanket thrown over her long legs even though it was still summer. Early August on the east coast was still warm. She looked out the window, watching the rain plummet in driving sheets, fascinated by the way the falling drops made the puddles on the cul-de-sac dance with sparkling leaps and bounds. It would flood, probably, but she did not care.

The sound of a shrill car horn startled her out of her reverie. Jenn hopped up, took one last look at herself in the mirror- khaki pants and a navy blue blouse over a cream tank, hair combed neatly into place- before running downstairs and snatching up her umbrella on the way out the door.

Safely in the black Saturn, she turned to Matthew and grinned. "Bit wet out today."

He smiled and reached over to give her a one-armed hug. "How've you been?" Without waiting for an answer, he ploughed on, "I didn't really expect you to call me. But I'm glad you did," he added, seeing her mouth drop open in surprise. He turned to back out of the driveway. "Is the Aquarium okay with you?"

Jenn couldn't hide her surprise. The last time she'd been to the Aquarium had been for her mother's fiftieth birthday party. It was not a place she traveled to with ten dollars in hand. It was not a place she visited casually. It was not a place, in short, she had imagined going to catch up with an ex-boyfriend. "I didn't bring that much money," she said aloud.

"Don't worry about it. It's on me," he insisted.

Jenn squirmed infinitesimally. Whatever she had told Josh, it felt strange to be going out with Matthew. They'd been together nearly two years; aside from Orli, theirs was her longest relationship. Two months before Jenn's twentieth birthday, it had ended abruptly. And now, this get-together for lunch was beginning to smack of a date. It made her very uncomfortable.

Matthew set off, zipping along the highway at nearly eighty miles an hour. It was one of the things they'd always had in common- their love of speed. He glanced over. "Are you okay? You look upset."

Jenn quickly wiped emotion from her face. "I'm fine," she said, a trifle too quickly.

Matthew raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You know there's no pressure here. I know you're married; I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Jenn sighed. When they'd dated, Matthew had always been able to tell what she was thinking five minutes before she'd figured it out herself. "I know. It just feels weird, you know? Orli and I are in the middle of this big fight- our first fight ever, really, and I'm going out with my ex-boyfriend." Before she knew it, she was telling him all about it.

Matthew was a good listener. He could hold a phone for hours on end and never say anything but, "And then what happened?" It was one of his most endearing qualities. That, Jenn mused, and his eyes. Big blue-green eyes that really did, cliché though it sounded, open the windows to his soul. Jenn wondered what could possibly have gone wrong with Marilyn. Matthew was so _sweet_; he'd even made an honest attempt to be kind when he'd told her he'd been seeing someone else, trying to take the blame to himself.

And then Jenn wondered, not idly, why she thought he was so sweet when he'd cheated on her.

Matthew pulled into the parking lot at the Aquarium and hurried around to her side of the car to open her door. She smiled self-consciously. "I feel like I should have gotten more dressed up, now. It feels so… formal."

Matthew smiled too. "It can be whatever you make of it. You look beautiful the way you are."

She blushed, ever so slightly. "You don't mean that."

"Why wouldn't I?" He looked genuinely surprised.

She smiled bashfully as he offered his arm and escorted her inside.

After they'd been seated- a good forty minutes later- Jenn shrugged off her raincoat, a last-minute addition to her outfit which had proven itself useful but served its purpose, as she and Matthew sat down. They'd been seated next to a giant fish tank, which Jenn found both interesting and disturbing. Interesting, because Nemo, or possibly Marlin, kept swimming up and pressing his nose against the glass. Disturbing, because there was a fish with a nose that resembled a chainsaw acting in the same manner.

They laughed and joked like old friends as they ordered calamari to split, salmon for Matthew and shrimp for Jenn. It was, Jenn thought, like their third date, except that that had been at a Bennigan's, and afterwards they had kissed for the first time. In fact, it was Jennifer's first kiss altogether. Oh yeah, she remembered that date. It was stored in her memory in vivid color with sound effects. So little had changed since then- they might look different, and be in a different place, talking about different things- but Jenn still took note of the way he gestured animatedly when he was excited, the way his eyes flashed when he grew passionate, the way she gently responded to his stories, laughing and teasing him at all the right times. They still, she realized, acted exactly the same as they had on the third date. She could only hope they did not forget themselves and conclude this date exactly as they had that third date. It was easy to get caught up in the moment. Matthew had a way of making her forget herself.

"What I don't get," Michelle announced, "is why they can't make the cheese so it fits on the bread when I make my grilled cheese. I always have to use two slices, and that's just a waste. Plus, it adds calories. What could be worse?"

If she expected an answer from the otherwise uninhabited kitchen, she was sadly disappointed. The kitchen had nothing to say; perhaps it wanted to think her words over. Michelle had been roped into babysitting when Orli had staggered in at seven-thirty that morning, asking Josh to come stay with him and Michelle to watch Ally. Michelle suspected that he was mildly upset over Jenn's imminent lunch date, so mildly upset, in fact, that he'd forgotten to bring over any baby necessities. Michelle had driven over to Orli and Jenn's within two hours and had found the place empty, except for Jenn, who was in the shower, rushing out to the grocery store, and then staring out the gameroom window before going off with Matthew. Michelle suspected it was better to leave Jenn to herself and had located Ally's diapers with minimal socializing. She'd also found bread and cheese, and had, as was her custom, made herself at home.

With a sigh, Michelle flipped over her grilled cheese and popped Ally's bottle in the microwave. "And you know what else I don't get," she told the baby as she plopped the bottle on Ally's tray, "is how you enjoy this stuff. I mean, it's crap. Don't tell your mother I've been using bad words with you," she added conspiratorially. "But between you and me, kid, come on. Look at this. Strained peas in carrot sauce. I don't _think_ so. You poor girl." A tear leaked out of her eye. "You're going to be like one of those abused kids they have on television. I can see the headlines." She swept a hand above her head, gesturing at imaginary newspapers. "Two-month old taken away from mother due to mother's attempt to malnourish her baby." She gave a sudden gasp of horror. "But what if it was Orli? That's more Orli's kind of thing. I bet it was him." She gave Ally a little kiss on the head. "I'll take care of you," she swore. "You and my kid will have a fabulous time together. Once she's born, of course. Or he," she added, struck by a sudden inspiration. "Hey, listen." She bent down to look Ally in the eye. "You're going to have to skip that whole cootie phase after I rescue you from your parents and start feeding you cake and ice cream if my kid's a boy, okay?" She jumped up suddenly. "Crap!"

Her grilled cheese was hissing on the stove, and she rushed over to assess the damage. "Burnt to a crisp," she told Ally sadly, and banged around the pots until she found one to cook some macaroni. That done, she sat down the chair next to Ally and fed her the strained peas, a disgusted look on her face.

"I don't understand," Josh proclaimed, "how you can actually have a signature drink."

"And it has a tiny umbrella in it," Orli said, almost giggling. "As opposed to your thing. It's so little."

"It is not _little_." Josh looked a bit too offended for the occasion. "Yours is just enormous."

"Thank you," Orli said tipsily, and went back to his drink. Two seconds later his attention had returned to Josh. "What _is_ that?" he asked in reference to Josh's drink, sounding as suspicious as if he suspected Josh of poisoning him.

Josh swept it towards him. "Try it. Irishmen swear by it."

"I bet they do," Orli muttered distrustfully, sniffing the dark liquid skeptically. "I bet they say, 'What the f is this?'"

"Orli," Josh admonished. "You're not that drunk. There's no need for that talk."

Orli shoved Josh's drink back towards him. "I don't want it."

Josh stood. "Well, you've had enough Mai Tais, and I don't like this drink. I'm pretty sure you're right about what the Irishmen say. Let's go."

Orli clung to his drink as though it were the last thing on earth. "No!"

Josh looked faintly amused. "Orli. Come on."

"I won't do it," he declared, clutching the glass to his heart. A lock of his unkempt hair, in want of a trim, fell in his face as he swooned slightly.

"I don't know what to make of you," Josh sighed, and sat back down.

The macaroni cooked and eaten and Ally happily fed, Michelle decided that the best thing for both of them was some fresh air. Having cleaned up the strained peas, which had somehow found their way onto not only Ally's face and clothes, but also the walls and the door, an impressive twenty feet away, she set Ally down on a blanket as she went to put on her shoes.

"You would think," she told Ally in mild indignation, "that when your daddy wakes me up at six, wanting me to baby-sit, he would have the decency to bring over a stroller and some diapers. But instead I find myself at your house, searching the whole stupid first story to find baby wipes. Go figure. Speaking of which…" She sniffed. "You need another diaper change."

After changing Ally's diaper and lacing up adorable little shoes on her feet, Michelle walked happily out the door, whistling in a horribly off-key voice.

Five minutes later they were back. "There was only a ninety percent chance of rain," Michelle complained. "Now I have no clue what to do with you." She set Ally down on a blanket in the family room and shoved a rattle under her nose as she set off for the bathroom.

Having finished her business, Michelle flopped down on the floor next to Ally, who was lying on her back, not playing with her toys. "Is this normal behavior?" Michelle wondered aloud. "I thought usually you couldn't get babies to sit still, unless they were sleeping. Are you sleeping?"

Ally chose not to answer, and Michelle leaned over to see if her eyes were closed, which, in fact, they were. In fact, her face had a slightly bluish tinge to it, and Michelle felt the beginnings of alarm.

"You're not breathing, are you?" she asked in a would-be calm tone. Ally's chest was not rising and falling.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," Michelle breathed, and ran for the phone.

"He _what_?" Josh asked in disbelief.

Orli, hunched over the computer, sounded defensive. "You think I'm making things up?"

"I think you're stark raving drunk," Josh answered flatly. "Which is why you can't go take Ally away from Michelle right now. You'd probably drop her in the toilet, thinking she was a hairbrush."

Orli glared up at Josh in suspicion, but Josh determinedly kept a straight face and returned their attention to the topic at hand. "Shove over. Let me see that."

"He was questioned about his girlfriend's murder?" Josh still didn't sound convinced. "What did you have to hack into to find this?"

Orli suddenly became fascinated by a bird perched outside the window of Josh's study. "Me? Hacking? Josh, I am hurt. I don't even know my way around my e-mail."

Josh stretched, yawning. "No, but you seem to be able to find your way into the Atlanta police department just fine." He frowned. "What was he doing in Atlanta, anyway? I thought Jenn said he went to college in Texas and stayed there."

"He probably moved after they broke up," Orli declared. "Because he was such a total and complete asshole that he had to flee the country."

The words Josh muttered under his breath sounded suspiciously like "drunken dumbass." Aloud he told Orli, "Atlanta is in Georgia. Georgia is in the United States. So are we." He spoke as though to a two-year-old.

Orli's mutterings were completely indiscernible. "I need a nap," he announced, and staggered over to the bed in the next room, nearly missing it and hitting the floor instead.

Josh, torn between smiling at Orli and frowning at the computer, returned his attention to the latter, skimming an obviously standard police record. Bits and pieces jumped out at him… _first-degree murder, criminal trial, hung jury, evidence all circumstantial, suggested sentence no less than seven years in a high-security prison_. Josh blinked, unsure what to do with this newfound information and altogether forgetting to read the bottom of the police record for the man named Matthew Rock.

Jenn felt pleasantly full by the time she was halfway through her shrimp. Matthew was still attacking his salmon with unrivaled alacrity, and she looked on in amusement. _Nothing's changed_, she thought again, smiling inwardly.

He glanced up to find her staring at him, and she quickly averted her gaze, stabbing a bit too hard at a piece of shrimp with her fork. For some reason Matthew looked suddenly nervous. Jennifer chanced another glance up.

"Is something wrong?" she asked in genuine concern, noting the look on his face.

He blushed slightly, keeping his eyes determinedly on the glass tabletop between them. Jenn cocked her head to the side, confused.

Finally, Matthew looked up. "I have something to say," he began. "And you don't have to say anything back, you never have to see me again if that's how you want it, but I can't walk away not having said this."

Jennifer merely looked at him, inquisition in her eyes. He paused, apparently steeling himself to do something exceedingly difficult.

"Marilyn and I were together for over two years," he started, sounding distant, and Jenn felt her insides turn glacial. They hadn't seen each other in four years, having been together for two before that, and all he wanted to talk about was Marilyn? She opened her mouth to say something angry, but he waved her unspoken words away with his hand.

"It was only a couple of months when we were together that I was seeing her on the side," he continued, looking almost properly embarrassed. "And those couple of months- I enjoyed myself. I guess because I was beginning to worry that you wanted more out of our relationship than I had to give. I started feeling suffocated, like I needed breathing room. I wasn't ready to commit myself to one person, and you were. That scared me. I know it was still wrong. But I can't take back what I've done, and I've already apologized a thousand times, and if by doing it a thousand more I could make it all go away I would. Anyway, Marilyn and I had been broken up just a month before I called, asking you to go to lunch and catch up, and you told me you were happy with Orlando." His voice caught. "I guess I deserved that.

"Marilyn was… suffice it to say we didn't end things on a happy note. I don't like talking about it. That was a bad phase of my life. That was probably the worst mistake I ever made. I think I still loved you. I was just scared of taking things further than they were. I didn't think I was ready to fall in love with one person; I wasn't ready to imagine the rest of my life. I loved Marilyn, too. I fell hard and fast for her. I guess you can love two people at once."

"But you have to make choices," Jenn cut in. Her fingers, unknown to her, were curled tightly around her forgotten fork, the knuckles white. She could see two different directions this conversation could go in, and she did not like either of them.

Matthew looked surprised, but nodded. "You have to make choices. I made mine." He was staring down at the table again as though it held the secrets of the universe. "I was wrong." He raised his head slowly to meet her eyes, and Jenn found her heart beating fast. Simply to have something to do with her hands, she stabbed absently at her shrimp and was altogether surprised when her fork, which in fact had not captured any shrimp, landed in her hair.

He opened his mouth, and she heard the words from far away. "I still love you."


End file.
